


Something I Need

by Star_Gazing_Knight



Series: If I Lose Myself [3]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Butterflies, Chris does not die, Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Makkapitew!Josh, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Scenting, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Stranger still died, Totems, Wendigo Culture, Wendigo!Josh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Gazing_Knight/pseuds/Star_Gazing_Knight
Summary: There were a lot of things that Chris didn't expect when he returned to Mount Washington for some closure.  Least of all, Josh being alive and saving Chris -- for some unknown reason.Now, Chris needed to figure out how to stay alive, as he dealt with the stress of what had become his life.Rewrite ofTHIS
Relationships: Chris Hartley/Josh Washington
Series: If I Lose Myself [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/405678
Comments: 37
Kudos: 226





	1. February 13, Chris

Ever since he was young, Chris had known about Post Traumatic Stress. It was one of those things that he couldn’t help but to know about, especially given how often it was whispered by pitying adults as they watched him and his mother.

“He was a good man.” They would say to his mother, patting her on the shoulder or offering a hug. 

Even at a young age, Chris doubted those people spoke the truth. Good men didn’t leave their families. They didn’t leave a grieving mother and wife. They didn’t leave a fatherless son. 

He would sit in the soft plush chairs and just _watch_ his mother move about the room, talking to people, pretending like there wasn’t black smeared around her eyes making her look like a raccoon. He watched her accept the folded flag, tears that she tried so hard not to let out streaming down her face as the last cry of the bugle fell silent. 

“He’s too young to understand.” People assured his mother; and the glances in his direction told Chris exactly who they thought to be too young to understand. 

Chris understood perfectly.

Against various advice, they didn’t move. There was no change in location. No new house. No new home. Just a cold empty house that was a facsimile of what a home should be. A coffin of happier memories. Besides, his mother had no desire to move. After all, if they moved, how would his father find them?

He wondered, more than once, if perhaps it was his mother who didn’t understand.

His experience with PTSD was very interactive. He learned about it with every tear his mother shed at the thought of him leaving – even to play with friends. He learned with the steady disappearance of the bottles and cans. He learned with every phone call, letter, and family friend that his mother turned away.

He learned during the time he had to stay with his uncle. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed his time with his uncle wasn’t long, but time seemed to drag in the boringness of the countryside. Chris returned to his mother only about a week before school was set to start. 

He was told his mother was better, but really, she was just better at hiding it.

Part of him wondered if this was his father’s last ‘gift’ to the family. An equally bitter part of him wondered what right his mother had to do this when he was the one who had…

He tried not to think about that day. Even when he grew older and was on the cusp of adulthood. It was one of the few things that Chris refused to speak about. Not to his mother, or his uncle, or even the therapist his uncle had bullied his mother into sending him to.

He buried the events of that day deep under bitterness and anger, hiding it away with sarcasm and aloofness, and then covering it all over with a generous helping of humor and amusement. He hid everything under silence when it was brought up, or when he came home to his mother’s tear stained face and empty cans and bottles.

Friends, once he made new ones, were easier to deal with than family – the people who would talk in whispers and pass pitying looks about when Chris or his parents were mentioned. 

“Oh, my father? He never made it home, KIA, ya know?” Became a much better alternative to the truth among friends. A lie Chris wished more than anything was true. As a teen and young adult, he lied through his teeth and accept the quiet condolences that always followed. “Oh, don’t be sorry… it happened a long time ago.”

Long ago enough for Chris to stop seeing his therapist. But not long enough for his mother to recover. She continued to sink deeper and deeper into her denial. As the years passed, it felt to Chris like his mother sat at the bottom of a bottomless well, far beyond his reach and drowning under the weight of her despair.

A room in the back of the house was strictly off limits. It was the room his father used when he was concerned about keeping her awake at night with his nightmares. As a child, before everything, Chris had liked the room as it had the most interesting stuff in it. 

His father would show him the full photobooks. Most of them were full of Chris as his father wanted to see all the memories of Chris’ childhood since he hadn’t been there in person. He would show him the various medals and ribbons, or his uniform. 

Chris knew there was a picture somewhere in those books of him wearing his father’s hat. It was so big, it was basically covering his eyes and consuming his head. 

His mother continued to take pictures and fill photobooks. “Your father will want to see the young man you’ve grown into.” She told him once while setting out his father’s uniform on the bed, getting it ready just as she would when readying him for deployment.

Chris used to watch her, but as he grew older, he opted instead to close the door and give his mother privacy. He would shut that door all the time, but he would never open it. Never again. 

When he was younger, the therapist told his mother that he suffered from PTSD. He overheard the conversation and watched as his mother broke into tears. The moment was forever emblazoned in Chris’ mind, not for what was happening, but for how he felt. 

He felt disjointed, separated from the world. Like he was just watching it pass by, learning as he went. Until the therapist said the magic words. “The traumatic experience of finding his father…” 

Chris stopped listening at that point. His mind and body betraying him as he was transported through time back to that day, to that moment. Sometimes, even as an adult, he could still feel the cool brass doorknob twist under his hand. The grain of the wooden door against his other hand as he pushed. 

He could hear the creak of the wooden beams in the ceiling as the rope swung in a small slow circle like a pendulum around the overturned chair. It echoed in his ears late at night in the space between dreams and reality.

He closed himself off to most people and threw himself into anything to escape the guilt. The guilt that he hadn’t been the son his father wanted. That he hadn’t been enough to keep his father alive and present with his family. That he wasn’t able to keep his mother safe and sane.

The guilt that he was just as messed up as the rest of his family.

He was familiar with guilt. Besides Josh, he would say that guilt was his best friend. 

He could still remember the first time he met Josh. He was sitting in the front of the classroom, trying to prove that he was worth the pity the school had shown his mother when they admitted him. In third grade and he was already trying to throw himself into school. And then some idiot in the back of the room was picking on a girl with a training bra and he was relocated.

Boom, butterfly effect.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting next to a kid with too big green eyes that gleamed in the florescent lights and smiled with a big toothy grin. “I’m Josh.” The kid introduced himself, and that was that.

As a teen, he discovered the joys of the digital world. Phones were his poison of choice, much like how alcohol was his mother’s. She lost herself at the bottom of a bottle or can, but Chris preferred the small digital screen in his hands.

Interacting with real life was too difficult? No problem. All he needed to do was find Josh, gently bump his shoulder, pull out his phone and launch his latest app of choice. Josh would take care of anything and everything, and if Chris was needed, Josh would let him know. 

Chris thought that Josh might have known the truth. There was a certain way he would set his mouth whenever Chris said his lie. A specific gleam to his eyes that always made Chris feel as if Josh could look right through him. 

He knew that Josh had walked into one of his mother’s episodes at least once and had overheard some of those episodes over the phone more times than Chris was comfortable with. But he never asked. He never questioned, never bothered Chris. 

He never held it against Chris when he missed friend activities due to his mother being unable to handle his absence. He never held Chris bailing against him. Josh just accepted it and moved on.

Reflecting on it now, Chris wondered if that should have been the first sign that his friend wasn’t as good as he wanted everyone to believe. If perhaps that silent acceptance was Josh’s way of saying ‘I understand because I too struggle with mental illness.’

When he was little, Chris’ father hung himself and Chris found him. When he was younger, Chris thought he knew all there was to know about PTSD. When Chris was younger, he couldn’t understand the choices his father made.

Now, years later, he was forced to realize there was more than he thought. Now, he finally understood what his father was thinking and the choices he made.

How could he not understand when he thought about the rope wrapped up in the back of his father’s desk, or the multitude of guns and weapons displayed on the wall. His mother caught him looking at one, his father’s old pistol, and promptly burst into tears.

The wooden floor of his childhood home had always haunted him, but instead of the heavy footsteps of his father’s boots, it was now the creak of the lodge. Shapes in the darkness were no longer a hanged man but indescribable creatures, watching and waiting.

He would lay in his bed and hold absolutely still, unable to sleep until either the first ray of light shined through his window, or his mind gave out. Whichever came first.

The creatures only hunted at night and couldn’t see him if he stayed still. It was safest to sleep during the day, when they crawled away under his bed, into the closet, deep into the mines and caverns and broken-down sheds where he left his best friend.

During the night they’d scream into his face, trying to get him to move, to react, to make a single noise so they could find him and rip him into shreds, their sharp claws finding purchase in the softness of his organs, cracking and breaking his bones. It was worse when they’d imitate Josh’s voice, like they had imitated Jessica’s in the mines. Those were always the hardest nights, the nights where he’d leave once morning hit and go to that room and stare at his options and wonder if he had the guts to make the choice his father had.

The first time he visited the mountain with Josh’s family, his mother had barely survived. But she endured, at least until the fateful trip where Hannah and Beth went missing. She broke down in his arms, sobbing and crying as Chris bitterly wished it was the other way around. This most recent time had gone exactly the same as the year before, only this time he was taken to a therapist.

Although, the shining moment came when his therapist once again informed his mother that he was suffering from PTSD, she didn’t break down as she had before, just had nodded and let a few tears slip down her defined cheek. She’d started off asking about treatment options and he had to look away again, except, it wasn’t because of the memories but because he thought he saw a shadow on the ceiling move, despite the fact it was daytime. 

His only restriction on the therapy sessions was that there were no evening sessions.

“Tell me what’s on your mind today, Christopher.” But that being his only restriction didn’t mean that he was entirely open. Therapy hadn’t helped Chris when he was younger. It hadn’t helped his mother or his father or… Josh. 

And he knew that therapy did work for some people. It had to otherwise so many people wouldn’t subscribe to it and pay oodles of money. 

But it wasn’t for Chris. He wasn’t one of those people, no matter how much he wished he was. 

So anytime the therapist asked him a question Chris would just purse his lips and look down at his lap, wishing for his phone. It wasn’t allowed on account of being his ‘security blanket’ or something, but he knew that wasn’t true. His security blanket was his lie about his father, and Josh. 

Josh who looked after Chris even though it was actually Josh who needed someone looking after him.

“Tell me about your friends, Christopher.”

Chris curled his fists, thinking first of Josh. But Josh was _dead_. Cold and dead and lying in pieces at the bottom of a seemingly endless mineshaft full of horror and nightmares. 

His next thought was of Mike. Mike, who Chris had punched upon learning that he left Josh in the mines. Sam left them both and then Mike left Josh. He left Josh in the mines that murdered his sisters. In the mines where nightmares were real and longed for nothing more than to rip flesh off bones and devour it.

The mines that Emily – of all people – escaped from. The mines that poor broken Jessica was dragged into and managed to escape thanks to Matt. The mines that Matt escaped from.

Yet Mike had only been able to save himself. He was half the man Matt was, who was able to rescue Jessica as well as himself. He had escaped the from same monster with Jessica. Yet Mike couldn’t escape with Josh.

Yeah, Chris didn’t want to talk about his friends.

He didn’t even want to think about them. It was bad enough that Ashley insisted on stopping by to talk to him and keep him updated since he refused to answer texts or calls.

He lost contact with most of his friends like the teams that the Washingtons hired to find Josh’s body in the mines lost contact with the world. The first two teams disappeared. The third returned with failure and reports of ‘nothing’.

One did not simply walk into the mines of that cursed mountain and return unscathed, so Chris doubted very much that they entered the mines at all. The disappearance of the first two teams told him that the monsters were still there. Still angry. Still dangerous. 

Still hungry.

He owed the Washingtons for keeping him in the loop about the search for Josh’s body, but he also hated them for it. He hated them because they made it so much easier for him to hate himself. 

He was a coward. He was a coward who couldn’t return to the mountain to find his friend. A coward who couldn’t be the friend Josh had been to him. 

It was the report from the third team that finally pushed Chris over the edge that he had been teetering on. It tipped the scales. Abruptly Chris realized that he couldn’t continue this. He couldn’t do this anymore. He would take after his father, follow his choice.

He put down the report from the third team, his mind racing. There was still rope in his father’s room, but that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t enough. Using one of his father’s weapons didn’t seem right either.

No, he would take bits and pieces. His father’s choice, his mother’s poison… Josh’s final resting place. All the things that had been slowly killing him. It was Chris, in the mines, with the bottle of whiskey. 

Perfect.

His friends would miss him… for a year. They recovered so quickly from Hannah, Beth, and Josh, he had no doubt they would recover quickly from him too. His mother would be a wreck. One more man in her life to just not come home anymore, but that was what his uncle was for. 

His father’s brother had been taking care of her Chris’ entire life. This wouldn’t be any different. 

Chris didn’t allow himself any time to rethink any of this. He just grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He sat in the driver’s seat for hours before finally starting the car and pulling out towards the bus station. 

It took too long to get to the mountain. By now, he was certain his mother had called his friends. Maybe they were trying to call him – he left his phone on one of the buses when he went over the border – but he didn’t care. He was legally an adult and over the border. She couldn’t do anything.

He had enough cash on him to buy a couple bottles of Josh’s favorite whiskey and smuggled them into bus in his jackets and layers at one of the stops. Getting off the bus was a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. 

The first bottle of whiskey warned his body as he stared up at the gate that read ‘Blackwood Pines’. The bus had left him hours ago, and he was well past the stage of having second thoughts. He took another swig of liquid courage and then finally started up the path that led to the cable car station.

The snow by the road was ruined. Footprints of dogs and men who searched for Josh. Footprints from police and his friends. And now it was being ruined yet again by his footsteps as he traced the familiar path. He felt as if he was being pulled forward, like a puppet whose strings were being tugged. 

He stopped at the station door and frowned at it for a good full minute. Josh asked that the door be kept locked, and how was Chris to enter if the door was locked? He pursed his lips and tried the door anyways. 

The knob turned easily, and Chris wanted to scream. Josh wanted the door locked, and yet here it was: open. He slammed it shut before locking it behind him. Even with the alcohol he had consumed, starting the cable car was easy. 

Within no time he was finishing a bottle, lazing on the bench of the car as it brought him closer and closer to Josh. A good portion of the bottle was probably on the floor, but he ignored that. It wasn’t like he was going to be the one to clean it up.

The upper station was full of the evidence of Josh’s prank. The ruined station was a nice touch, and despite being a recipient of the prank, he was impressed by it. He spun around to admire Josh’s last work, splashing alcohol on the floor and ignoring the soft clink of his bottle when it hit the ground and spilled out more. 

He only started to pay attention to it again when the liquid spilled out over the floor and headed towards the edge to spill out into the depths below. Much like his sobriety, he imagined.

Maybe his mother had been onto something with her poison of choice after all. 

He watched it drip down into the abyss below. Where ever Josh’s body was, perhaps the alcohol was finding it. It was Josh’s favorite brand, after all. He started laughing and kept laughing and laughing until his laughter turned to sobs.

He came up here for a reason. A very specific reason. To find closure, to find his own special little salvation in his own destruction. 

His mind hissed at him that he was a coward. That he couldn’t come up here without getting shit-faced drunk first. That he was too scared to find the truth. That he was scared to find Josh.

But he supposed that he didn’t want to find Josh. He wanted to suffer. He wanted to stumble around in the darkness. He wanted the creatures to find him, to end him just like they ended Josh. It was what Chris deserved. For trusting Mike, for not going back for his best friends, for leaving him in a shed. He deserved to be dragged into the mines. To be ripped apart by the monsters. 

He’d rather be torn apart out here anyways, where no one could find him, than in his house, where his father’s monsters had torn his family to pieces.

Growing up, Chris had always heard about how much he looked like his father. Guess the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

He sob laughed as he spun around again before putting his hands on the railing. He looked out at the endless landscape of the mountain range and took a deep breath of the crisp cold air. 

Was there a more beautiful place to die? 

He laughed again as he spun away from the railing and stumbled out the door and station before falling on the icy snow.

The cold seeped in through his layers and cooled the fire of the whiskey within. He laid there for a few moments, the memory of Josh joking about him making snow angels with Ashley randomly appearing in his head. He’d been a coward then too. He had agreed, but really, he’d been too much of a coward to tell Josh that he’d rather make snow angels with him instead.

It was too late now. Josh was gone, gone, gone. He was gone long before. His bright green eyes were too glassy and wide as he asked if they were ordering pizza.

Chris’ chest felt tight and he sat up, suddenly feeling far too sober. He stumbled back to the station, into the cable car where he’d left the bottles. He opened up on, grabbing another for the journey and stumbled back out. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the unmistakable screech of one of those creatures. 

“Come get me!” He screamed back, taking another long swig of the drink. He grinned and looked up at the starry sky above. “Hey Josh… I think I’m doing something that I would regret if you were here.” The world was spinning when he finally looked back at the trail, and then he opted to take a step off the trail. And then another, and another, and another until the trail was far behind him. 

He wasn’t going to the ruined remains of the lodge. No, he was just going to keep walking until the whiskey wore off, the sun rose, he fell off the side of the mountain, or the Wendigos dragged him off into the mines.

Despite everything he’d been thinking, the fall was still a shock. 

One moment his foot was on solid ground, the next, his foot was hitting thin air. His breath was torn from his chest as his stomach jumped up to replace it. He gasped as he hit a surface, feeling his arm protest as he rolled over off of it and finding himself falling yet again, sliding down a slippery icy slope. His hands tried to claw the icy rock for purchase, but all he succeeded in was falling over more rock, and then there was a sharp sudden pain to his head and then nothing.

~

Chris couldn’t remember waking or even falling asleep. All he knew was the one moment he was elsewhere and then the next he was… here. Wherever _here_ was.

He could have sworn he was on the mountain still, probably someplace in the mines since he could clearly recall the sensation of plummeting to what he was sure was certain death. Yet despite his certainty in that fact, the truth was that where he was currently standing was not anyplace he knew or expected. 

Perhaps the spring or summer months would be warm enough for a clearing of flowers on the mountain like this. It was far too cold for flowers in the autumn and winter months, yet here he was, staring out at a field of fluttering flowers in a tree enclosed clearing.

The gnarly dead trees that lined the clearing all seemed to be leaning inward, as if trying to capture and trap it like a canary cage. The moon above was bright, gleaming and shining in the darkness in a way that fell entirely too unreal. The stars were even brighter, spilling out across the midnight sky and twinkling like tiny diamonds on black velvet. The ground was carpeted in fluttering shades of red, white, yellow, brown and even black. 

He took a step forward and the ground exploded, the ‘petals’ of the flowers taking flight and circling around him. Not flowers then, but _butterflies_. 

“Whelp,” Chris muttered to himself. “I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

He held up his hand and extended a finger – like he had been taught to do in grade school when they did their butterfly projects. Of the swirling crowd around him, one butterfly broke off to land on his finger. Its wings flashed various colors before setting on a bright yellow.

He was pulled into it, falling into a swirl of yellow and butterflies and then suddenly –

“Sam?!” An unknown man’s voice echoed from the swirling yellow which faded as it twisted into the dark damp gray of the mine walls. There was a fork in the tunnel and Chris knew with absolute certainty that the man’s voice had come from one of the options before him. 

There was something behind Chris. Something dangerous and it was watching him. His heart was beating so loudly he could hear it beat in his ears like a loud drum. 

“Sam?!” The man called out again, and without any conscious choice of his, Chris turned down the tunnel the voice was coming from. He ran, stumbling in the dark and falling. A spark of red bloomed into his vision; a butterfly beating its wings to the rhythm of Chris’ heart. The red bled out into the mines with every beat of its wings; with every thump of Chris’ heart.

“Butterflies carry dreams and prophecies of possible futures, according to some legends around this mountain.” 

The red stone walls of the mine faded into warm red wood. He stumbled into the Washington Lodge, a place Chris knew with absolute certainty had been burnt to a crisp. Then again, that certainty didn’t seem to hold much water here considering the person who spoke had been burnt to a crisp along with it. 

Hannah watched him with impossibly dark eyes as she leaned against the counter in the kitchen. When she noticed him watching her, she smiled, but it was all wrong. It was like _something_ pretending to be Hannah. The smile was too big, too wide. 

“You want to hear a secret?” She asked in a low whisper. “It’s not a legend.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “Now you tell me a secret.” 

Chris shook his head slowly, uncertain and confused. “I don’t understand.”

Hannah’s eyes flashed milky white as she shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “It’s okay.” She said after a moment. “I already know one.” She leaned forward. “You came here to die.” She whispered, her eyes wide and the smile still tugging at her lips. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”

It felt like Chris’ heart had stopped working yet the ever-increasing beat in his ears told him otherwise. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. 

“You know,” Hannah started as she pushed off the counter, “Josh is here.” She informed him. “He’s with me now, with his family.” As she spoke and approached, the walls of the lodge caught fire. The wood burned away to reveal the stone of the mines. 

“He’s with his family.” Hannah repeated as she walked through the fire and changing environment like it didn’t even exist. “You can be with us too.” Her smile was still fixed on her face, but it seemed to be growing wider and wider. Her skin seemed to pale and gray out in the light of the fire, and belatedly, Chris realized that she was growing taller and thinner. “Nothing would make Josh happier.”

She was standing before him now, and when she smiled, it was with needle sharp teeth. Chris’ gaze slid down to her arm where the black butterfly tattoo fluttered its wings as if alive and when he looked back up, it was a different wendigo in front of him. 

It screeched in his face and Chris stumbled back – into a wooden structure in the mines – in shock. The taste of iron and copper filled his mouth as red bubbled up out of him, coating his tongue and sliding down his neck onto the arm embedded in the soft tissues of his gut. He was choking, drowning on his own blood before darkness over took him.

He rolled over onto his side, bile pushing its way past his lips and onto the cold stone floor. He gasped for air like he’d been underwater or suffocating. His heart was racing, his head pounding. Thoughts and images spun through his head. 

What happened? Was… was that – whatever that had been – over? Where was he? Had he just… died? Too many questions, not enough answers. He needed to focus on facts. Facts, facts, facts.

He fell. He fell into the mines. He had been drinking and he fell. But he was alive. Maybe, possibly… it was unclear.

“Fuck.” He hissed as pain shot up from his arm. As much as he wanted to take a moment to reflect on his weird ‘dream’ or whatever, Chris knew he needed to get a look at his arm first. He needed to regroup himself and figure out what to do. 

What was he going to do?

He was alone without a phone or anyone knowing where he was. He was probably still drunk – although the pain was doing a wonderful job at sobering him up – and he had fallen into the mines. The very same mines that housed intelligent man-eating creatures who were bound and determined to tear him into shreds and chew on his bones.

The same mines that Hannah and Beth had died in. The same mines Josh had been left to die in. 

The guilt tore through him at that last thought; and Chris had to wonder, which was worse: being torn apart physically by a brutal creature or being torn apart mentally by his own guilt?

No! No time for contemplation. He needed to take stock of himself. He needed to focus.

He scooted closer to the wall as best he could with one arm, hoping there would be enough light filtering down through the hole for him to examine the damage. The discoloration and swelling wasn’t promising, and he figured that he probably broke a bone. 

Which was great. Just absolutely great. 

It was already difficult to escape the mines without an injury, but with one… Well, Chris didn’t figure his odds were good. Worse, he wasn’t exactly dressed for long term cold exposure, so he couldn’t really spare any clothes for a sling.

Well, things couldn’t get much worse.

Chris took a deep breath and used the icy wall to help himself up to his feet. He bit his lip to keep himself from screaming in pain as he jostled his arm in the progress. His ankle throbbed, reminding him all too well of the last time he hurt his leg up on this mountain. 

Well he wanted to be punished, and it seemed like fate and the universe were all too happy to provide. Creepy crappy dreams and everything. And it seemed Murphy had it out for him too, because naturally, when he thought things couldn’t get much worse, a loud shriek echoed through the mines. 

Well, there was only one thing that Chris knew of that could make a sound like that.

“Fuck.” Chris muttered as he tried to turn around to hobble in the opposite direction from the shriek.

He hoped that the fear and pain had knocked some sense and sobriety into him, but it apparently hadn’t as he stumbled and slid down yet another incline.

This time he couldn’t help the scream that was ripped out of his throat as he landed on his knees, his arms automatically bracing himself. Liquid lightning pain raced up his arm in response, and he could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he collapsed.

After a few moments of crying out in silent agony over his arm, he shuffled over to a wall and forced himself to stand and continue. He needed to keep moving – _Don’t move. The monsters can see you if you move_ – and try to escape.

He couldn’t tell how long he stumbled around in the dark before finally coming to a pool of icy water. A still functional but rotting watermill slowly spun as water flowed through it. Christ stared at it incomprehensively for a moment before bitterly laughing.

Of fucking course. 

Fate and the universe really did have it out for him, because of course the place he ended up at was the place where Mike had left Josh to die. The place where Mike had cowered behind a rock as Josh screamed and was presumably killed or dragged off. 

What right did he have to be here now when he hadn’t been here then?

He stumbled along until he reached the bank, where he fell to his knees and used his good arm to scoop up the water to drink. 

It probably wasn’t a good idea to drink untreated water, especially _this_ water, but it wasn’t like he had much other choice. His throat felt dry and scratchy. 

A screech, louder than the others he’d heard thus far, echoed around him. It promised to Chris that his death was close at hand. Dream!Hannah’s words echoed in his mind, particularly the bit about coming here to die. He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back on his heels and forced himself to ignore the pain from his arm and ankle.

This was it.

He could feel it in his bones when the creature shrieked again, bringing more than a few not so distant memories to mind. These were the shrieks that haunted his dreams and every waking moment at night. 

The wendigo that unleashed those noises had to be close. He was hit with the sudden startling realization that he didn’t want to die yet, but it was too late for that. Almost immediately following that thought, there were pinpricks of pain from the points of claws digging into his soft flesh as he was grabbed and lifted.

There was a moment of weightlessness as his body was sent flying across the cavern. He hit the ground and rolled, screams of pain unleashed as his arm and ankle heavily protested the harsh treatment. Within seconds the wendigo was back on him, lifting and pressing him against the wall. 

It tightened its hold on his neck so much he couldn’t breathe and screamed into his face. 

His eyes opened against his will. He hadn’t wanted to see the creature that would be ending his life, but at the last second his body betrayed him. 

It was like a train wreck he couldn’t look away from. Something so terribly horrible that he couldn’t help but to stare. He knew this was a possibility. He had known but hoped… well… death would have been a kinder fate.

Trust Karma to want to get in on some of this action along with the Universe and Fate.

“J… J… Jossssh.” The name escaped form his mouth unbidden, fighting to escape through choked breaths. 

Black spots danced in his vision, but nothing could obscure the vision before him: of Josh’s once beautiful green eyes clouded over and partially milky, of Josh’s always sharp smile now literally sharp, of his pallid and dirty skin.

He didn’t want to see anymore, yet even after he managed to close his eyes again, the image remained.

The creature – Josh, oh god, Josh, he was so sorry – pressed up against him, and Chris could feel its breath on his skin. So close to his face and neck and everything that was vital. This was it. He would get to feel Josh’s claws separate his head from his body, or perhaps Josh’s new teeth would tear out his throat.

One moment passed, and then another and another. The claws on his neck loosed, allowing him to take in shallow, but greedy, breaths of air. He opened his eyes, wondering why the creature – Josh – had stopped; why it hadn’t torn into him yet. 

The crea – Josh, this was Josh, and no amount of desensitizing would change that. Josh had moved back, his head tilted ever so slightly as he studied Chris. A soft quiet noise that Chris didn’t think Wendigos capable of making escaped him, and then just like that, unceremoniously, Chris was dropped. 

He yelped – first at being dropped and then due to landing on his arm – and looked up at Josh, who let out another soft noise before jumping on the wall he had just been holding Chris against and literally spiderman-ing away. 

“Not fucking cool, man!” Chris shouted after him. The rational sober side of Chris – or maybe it was the drunk side of Chris, who knew anymore – noted that it probably wasn’t a good idea to yell at Josh, seeing as there was nothing stopping him from jumping back down and finishing what he started. Another part of Chris wondered why he had been let go in the first place.

But why look a gift horse in the mouth?

If he could really consider this a gift. Wasn’t all of life a gift, in a way? Not that this was the time to get philosophical. 

…This was definitely not the time to get philosophical. 

Then again, he was alive after something that was completely certain would be the end of his life, so perhaps now was the _only_ time to be philosophical.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart or mind or something. The world was still fuzzy, a horrible byproduct of losing his glasses and probably not helped by the oxygen he had just been denied. Alright, alright… priorities – since he was still alive for some unknown reason.

First, he needed to clean out his wounds. The water probably wasn’t the best thing to do that with, what with it being _mine_ water, and water that the wendigos presumably swam in – considering Hannah apparently popped up out of the pool like fucking Jaws according to Mike – but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

And Chris was most certainly a beggar at this point. 

The shrieks continued to echo through the mines, and Chris idly wondered which were Josh’s as he dragged himself to the water source. It was a not-so-pleasant distraction from the pain of his body and the soreness of his throat.

He gulped down the water, the sharp icy temperature a relief to his very sore throat. He set to work cleaning his wounds, ignoring the sounds of the wendigos. If he ignored them, then maybe… maybe they’d ignore him too. Fat chance, but, hey, if he died, then he died. If he lived then, well, he would regret if he didn’t try to take care of himself.

Finally finished, he leaned against the closest large rock and sighed. He looked up in the darkness above, wondering if Josh was even still in the cavern with him. “I’m sorry, Josh.” There was no response to his words, and he sighed once more. “We… I… **_I_** fucked up, and I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I didn’t know.”

And that there was the root of all of Chris’ problems, wasn’t it? He didn’t – hadn’t known. 

Best friends since third grade and he hadn’t known. Not about Josh’s problems. Not about the emotions and instability tearing his friend apart. Out of everyone who should have known, he hadn’t. 

He was such a failure in so many ways. Not only for his mother and father, but also for Josh. Josh – his _best friend_ – who Chris had _watched_ deteriorate after his sister’s disappearances. And now, Chris couldn’t even die properly. He didn’t even want to die at all.

He was a failure and a coward.

The black spots that danced in his vision had yet to go away – a fact that was only somewhat mildly alarming. Chris thought it maybe should have been more, but he wasn’t sure. Everything was just starting to kind of blur together.

A lot had happened. He got drunk, fell in a mine infested by man-eating monsters, found out his best friend became one of said monsters, and was now stuck in said mine with a broken arm and more injuries than he honestly felt like taking proper stock of. 

Honestly, he just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and just cry. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

He actually wanted to curl up in the fetal position next to Josh, or his mom, or hell… his father, not that any of that was going to happen anytime soon. One was a murderous monster with a horrible sense of karma and irony, the other was a broken shell and hadn’t been a true mother since his father, and the less he said about why he couldn’t curl up next to his father, the better. 

He couldn’t even properly curl up now. His arm wouldn’t be able to take it, let alone of the rest of his aching body. Instead he sucked in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes; wishing that everything would just magically get better, that this was just some sort of weird dream that he could wake from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be updating once a month until I work out a better schedule for work, life, and writing. 
> 
> Thank you!


	2. February 13, Josh

It had been the innate chattering of the others that had driven him out of his nest and into the mines. Someone was on the mountain, they said. And like a puppet with strings, he had been tugged out of his furs and warmth to go find this ‘someone’. 

‘Someone’ usually meant tasty meat, and if he could find it first, then maybe, just maybe, he could keep it for himself and away from the others.

Not that he had a problem with the others. They weren’t entirely sure about him, often comparing him to _the one who came before_ , and rarely, _the one before that_. _The one who came before_ was mean and vicious, they claimed.

They weren’t sure if he was the same.

He wasn’t sure if he was the same. He wasn’t even sure what he had to do with _the one who came before_.

He didn’t think he was as good a hunter as the others, yet somehow, he found ‘someone’ before any of the others. A pitiful living piece of meat at the water’s edge, just waiting for him. His claws itched with the desire to rip and tear into the soft flesh. His stomach twisted at the thought of food. 

_The Hunger Consumes._

The human was weak. Easy prey, not that he was complaining. But there was something… unsettling about it. Something almost… familiar, a thought proven to be possible when the human rasped out something that had shaken him down to his core, trudging back up something he thought long gone and buried under hazy green dreams and all-consuming hunger.

Josh.

A name. His name, he was sure. He could vaguely recall his sisters calling him that before vanishing into the green dreams, never to be seen again. They left him, as everyone always does – a thought with so much certainty behind it that he didn’t question it.

There was something about the human’s scent that was familiar too. It smelled like something he had known once, and known for a long time. It was buried under the scents of so many other things: ice, blood, pain, sorrow, and something he was certain was… whiskey.

Under that there was a musk so strong he nearly sneezed. A must of oceans and mountains and clean clothes. 

But _under that_ … Under that there was _another_ scent. A scent so _human_ and natural and _familiar_. A metallic scent – not blood – that was heavy, warm, thick and sizzling as it settled close to the skin. It brought to mind friendship and something else. Something else that caused what little humanity the name ‘Josh’ had drug up in him to scream in protest, begging not to hurt the human – at least more than he already had.

That little bit of humanity seemed to slam into him full force, sending him wheeling and spinning out of control. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he was hungry – _The Hunger Consumes_ – because he would not be eating this particular human. Any human but this one. 

And he would be damned if he allowed any of the others to attempt such an atrocity.

This was _his human_. He found it first and thus it was _his_ , and his alone.

But humans were such needy creatures. They couldn’t hunt, couldn’t climb, couldn’t take care of themselves. The pitiful attempts of this one just trying to get some water had been hard to watch. He didn’t even want to witness the silly creature attempting to hunt. It would be too painful and embarrassing.

It had been a while since the human had last moved or made a noise, and part of him was offended at the thought that it might have gone and died on him just when he decided that it would be his. 

He dropped down and approached the human in a low crouch, sniffing the human curiously just to test if he still had the same gut-wrenching reaction. If he didn’t, then he could consume, but if he did…

He did, and so that settled it. This would be his human until such a time where he felt like eating the miserable creature. Still, this one was rather.. stupid, wasn’t it? He circled around it, examining the thin jacket and the way it shivered and shook from the cool mine air. 

There was ice in its thin hair and all over him, which probably didn’t help any, thin jacket or not. The other humans had worn many jackets and layers. Their clothes should be in his nest still… perhaps the human could make use of them?

Speaking of the nest… it was the perfect place to take his new human. The pile of furs he kept would be more than adequate to warm the human – besides the human clothes. Not to mention that the others tended to avoid his nest.

Now… how to get his human to the nest.

He could drag it, but previous experience told him that humans did not appreciate being dragged. He could carry an entire elk down into the mine, so he was pretty sure he could carry the human. Surely his human didn’t weigh more than elk.

It was always awkward to stand like a human, but it was something he could do. He reached down and, as carefully as he could manage with his claws, picked up his human, cradling him against his chest. 

Climbing would be difficult like this, so he would have to take the ground path to his nest. He moved carefully, checking every so often to make sure the human was not awake. A few of the others approached, but retreated when he looked at them, although a few only did so once he growled lowly at them. He made a mental note to keep an eye on them. 

He didn’t like them avoiding him, but that didn’t mean that he wanted them challenging him. Especially with something as important as meat or his human.

When he finally reached his nest – the human route was always so much longer – he was tempted to drop his human into the furs. The memory of it crying out the last time he dropped it stayed him, and instead, he gently lowered the human onto the furs. 

This human seemed to be more fragile than others.

He fell back into a crouch, whining lightly as he pondered what to do next. The others who kept humans would feed them to keep them fresh longer – not that they typically lasted long. _The Hunger Consumes_ was known to all. The human would need food.

He kept some meat in his cave, so his human shouldn’t go hungry anytime soon.

Water would be needed, but that could wait as he assumed his human would want it fresh.

Besides, the sun had risen not to long ago and it was time for sleep. Hunting and gathering supplies could wait till tomorrow, when the moon’s light would replace the sun’s too bright rays. 

Of course, that brought forth another dilemma: the human was sleeping in his nest. He didn’t foresee the human appreciating it if they were to share the nest, but then again, it was his nest and two bodies would be warmer. 

Humans needed heat to live, didn’t they? They weren’t like him, or his kind, where the icy cold was a mild discomfort. The cold was their companion, a constant presence that was only ever overshadowed by _hunger_.

He chuffed and shook his head, deciding it didn’t matter. The human was his, the nest was his. There was no dilemma at all beyond one of his own creation. If the human was displeased, then it would deal. 

He draped himself over the human so if it were to wake, he would notice. If the position also happened to give him the perfect spot to bury his nose into the human’s collar, then that was just an extra bonus.

~

He was woken later by tiny movement from under him. For a moment, he wondered what he had dragged back to his nest and why he hadn’t killed it, but then he remembered: his human.

He let out a low growl, displeased at being woken, yet the movements continued. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking at the human and wondering what was bothering him. There was a sheen of moisture on his face, which was twisted into something unpleasant. 

He huffed, and when that failed to provoke a response, chirped. 

The human groaned before blinking a few times. He backed off as cautiously as he could without drawing attention to himself, and clamored up to a ledge to observe.

There was still irritation humming under his skin at being woken, but his own curiosity as to the human’s reactions were more important than sating that itch. The tiny shafts of light that filtered down through small holes in the cavern assured him that it was still day, although, perhaps later in the day. 

An early night for him wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

The human let out another soft groan, grabbing his attention once more. The human’s hand reached up to its face and rubbed at its eyes before sitting up and letting out noises of distress. The distress seemed to worsen as the human looked around, especially as it scrambled out of the nest.

He noted that it seemed particularly distressed anytime it used its right arm. Was it injured terribly there? Or was it dysfunctional? That would explain his human’s increased fragility.

The human called out the name it had used before a few times, and with each call, there was a more urgent and distressed tone in its voice. With each call, the more the little bit of humanity in him fought to keep the human safe.

He enjoyed hearing the name, but the panic and distress was greatly dampening his enjoyment. The human called out again with such distress and panic that he finally took pity upon it, letting out a reassuring chip to announce his presence.

The human jumped and looked up at the ledge where he lounged, although he was certain the human could not possibly see him. It called the name again, softer this time and he let out an affirming trill before jumping down.

The human attempted a pitiful shriek, falling back onto his backside on the furs. He was letting out more distressed noises, and he chuffed, approaching and caging the human in on the furs. Although there was the reassuring scent of relief in the human’s scent, it was tainted with horror, sorrow, and fear.

The human repeated the name, “Josh,” speaking so softly and gently, like it was afraid of scaring _him_. Ha! He tilted his head and chirped in response. It continued to speak, and Josh nodded his head, like he could understand him despite the fact he only really understood was his name and the occasional word.

Without warning the human lunged for him, although it wasn’t for an attack. It wrapped one arm – not the dysfunctional one – around him, and sobbed into his shoulder. 

…

Very, very awkwardly, he patted the human’s back per the recommendation of a heavily faded green-tinged memory. He chirped once more in reassurance before letting out a soft rumble of comfort.

With the human hanging off of him like this, its scent filled his nose, bringing with it strange feelings and faded memories of his humanity. Most of his kind used to be human, but they shed that humanity. Some part of him felt like by accepting this human, he was taking a step back. 

He wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. Then again, he wasn’t sure that was a good thing either.

One thing was certain: he had known this human when he had been human himself.

What was its name? Every human had a name, so what was this one’s? It was right there, on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn’t recall it. 

“I’m so sorry.” The human whispered into his shoulder, and he stiffened as the words swam around in his head for a moment before finally making _sense_. It was like remembering that he had once been human had cleared the cobwebs of his mind that had prevented him from understanding the words.

“Josh,” The human continued. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He nuzzled the human, who tensed briefly at the movement but continued with his apologies. It was sweet that the human was so apologetic, although he couldn’t think of why that might be. For being dysfunctional? For being injured? For being human, and therefore weak and a poor hunter?

It still bothered him that he couldn’t recall the human’s name, but there was little he could do about that. Perhaps it would come with time?

Priorities, and right now that meant ensuring the human’s survival.

Humans were not meant for the winters here, and thus he had to always keep focused on the human’s survival. The human was _his_ now, and winter or not, only _he_ could choose when, where, why, and how the human would die.

He gently untangled the human from him, and pushed him firmly down into the nest, barking out a chirp to stay. The human didn’t understand and moved to follow, so he pushed the human back down into the nest, barking out the chirp once more with more firmness.

“Alright.” The human said. “I get it: stay.”

Hmm, perhaps the human was intelligent after all. That did sound and feel better. He nodded to himself and departed from the cave to head down to the water. 

So long as the human remained in his nest, then it should be fine. And if he returned to find the human was not fine, well, he would deal with that if it happened. He only paused in his self-appointed job to grab an old miners hat to fill with water.

He returned to a mess and he clicked disapprovingly. The human had put on some of the extra human clothes, which was good, but he had also messed with the nest.

“I’m not sure I want to know where you got these, bro.” The human said. Josh chirped, putting the water down before heading over to the second pile of furs that the human had tossed against the wall of the cave.

“No!” The human shouted before clearing its throat. “I mean, no, Josh. Those… uh… need to be cleaned.” He huffed, dropping the fur he had picked up and wrinkling his nose. Chris had always been more a neat freak than him.

Wait.

What had he just thought? Chris. He referred to the human as _Chris_. Of course, like it could be any other name other than _Chris_. Well, it could be. There was another name… one that came to him much easier than Chris had: Cochise. 

This was his Chris. His Cochise. 

“Should have known better than to expect a response.” Chris muttered, and of course, that was when Josh realized he had missed something Chris had said. He chirped in a quick response, and then opened his mouth to ask if he needed anything else besides the water before realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Chris couldn’t understand him. Not like he could understand him. 

“Uh… not changing your mind about not eating me, are you, bro?” Chris asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Josh let out a low growl at the idea. As if he would eat his Chris. This was _his_ Chris.

“Is that a no?” Chris asked. “Please be a ‘no’.” He huffed in annoyance before darting off to get food since Chris was asking about eating. Which honestly should have been obvious. While not one of his kind, _The Hunger Consumes_ was a law for all living things. Some more than others.

He had some meat hidden up on his favorite ledge, so he scaled up the wall and tossed it down. Chris let out another failing impression of a shriek, and then another smaller one when Josh jumped back down.

“Dude.” Chris said, looking between him and the meat. “Dude, dude, dude.” He repeated a few more times. “That’s… that’s a… a uh…” Chris swallowed thickly, looking more than a little green. Like he didn’t want what he was offering.

Which was preposterous. _The Hunger Consumes_. 

He wondered briefly if Chris didn’t know what to do with it, but that was just as preposterous. Everyone knew what one did with meat. Still, just to be safe, he picked it up and tore a piece off with his teeth, chewing slowly as he handed it to Chris.

“Uh, that’s… really thoughtful of you, buddy… but I’m good. I’m not hungry,” his human was lying to him, he could hear Chris’ stomach growl. 

Josh forced the meat into Chris’ hands, ignoring the litany of ‘no’s. Chris dropped the meat and shook his head, “No, Josh…. I … I can’t eat that.” 

Well, why the hell not? He could eat it, easy. OH! But he had sharp teeth and he had to remember that humans were needy. That in mind, Josh took the meat back, tore it into smaller pieces, then offered them to Chris while miming eating them. Chris shook his head and pursed his lips together, as if he was scared Josh would force the meat into him. 

And Chris wasn’t entirely wrong. If he refused to eat by tomorrow, then he would be forced to eat. _The Hunger Consumes_ , and why would Chris choose hunger over eating? It was the law of all living things to eat, to consume. 

Perhaps Chris needed fresher meat? He could test that theory later by hunting down a rabbit or something small. 

Content with his plan, he nodded to himself before nabbing the small pieces he had torn up for Chris and eating them himself. He finished off the rest of the meat he had gotten as well. Chris seemed more than a little displeased and ill, but Josh wasn’t going to starve himself because his human was picky.

“Josh…” The human sounded so sad, presumably because he was hungry and picky. Well, that would be fixed as soon as Josh could go hunt. He pointed to the nest and chirped for Chris to stay before exiting his cave to head up to the surface.

The shrieks of the others informed him that they were working together to corner large prey, and upon his announcing shriek, they invited him to join. It was an invite Josh would normally consider taking, although _he_ didn’t need the help of the pack to take down large prey, however, he needed small prey for Chris. 

Hunting rabbits took little time and after a short while Josh returned back to his cave. He nodded in satisfaction at seeing that Chris had behaved, and bestowed his gifts upon his human via dropping them from the ledge before him.

Chris’s yelp was cut off into a half whimper as he looked down at the rabbits and then slowly looked up at Josh. “…You aren’t going to shove these down my throat, are you?” The human asked. Josh huffed in only mild annoyance.

If his human didn’t eat something, then yes. Eating was non-negotiable, so Chris would be eating, one way or another.

“…I’m taking that as a yes, if I don’t eat them.” Chris’ tone was sullen and subdued as he poked at the deceased rabbits with a look of horrified resignation. “Right.” He muttered, probably to himself. “Well, can’t you at least skin them first?”

Oh yeah! Humans didn’t have claws. Such helpless and useless creatures. Josh hopped down, making quick work of the rabbits and putting the skins off to the side to be cleaned, since Chris seemed to have such an issue with them being in the nest without being cleaned first.

“Cool.” Chris muttered. “Cool, cool, cool. Totally cool. This is fine. Totally fine.” He shook his head and sighed. “You got a fear of fire yet or is that cool?”

Josh jerked back at the mention of Fire. Fire was bad, dangerous, death. Why would Chris want _Fire_? Fire never brought anything good. He knew Chris wasn’t stupid, so why would he even think of mentioning Fire?

“Fuck. I was afraid of that.” Chris grimaced as he looked down at the rabbits. “I uh… I don’t… um. I don’t wanna… eat _that_ , bro.”

Josh didn’t mean to growl in frustration, but who could blame him. He had gone out and hunted fresh meat for Chris – since the human refused to eat the old meat – and he still refused to eat! Chris flinched at the noise, and Josh instantly felt like a jerk.

He stared down at the meat for a moment before the realization that it wasn’t torn into small pieces for Chris hit him like a rock to the head. Of course Chris couldn’t eat this, it wasn’t small enough. How could he forget something so simple?

Chris continued to grimace as Josh tore into the meat and held out the pieces for him. They were small enough now, Josh had made sure, so surely Chris could eat them now?

Chris gagged at the meat being held out to him and slowly shook his head. Very hesitantly, he reached out and touched a piece of the meat. Chris’ whole body visibly shuddered and he looked away, dropping the meat back into Josh’s outstretched hand.

“Ew.” He complained. “Ew, ew, ew. I can’t. Dude, I’d rather starve.”

That was not acceptable. _The Hunger Consumes_ , and no one would rather starve when there was _meat_ available. 

Josh let out a sharp reprimanding shriek before he pinned Chris down with laughable ease. Chris thrashed under him, uncaring of his injuries. “Dude, no!” He shouted, and Josh used that as the perfect opportunity to shove some pieces of meat into his mouth. Chris gagged, but Josh held his hand over his mouth, forcing him to keep the meat in his mouth until the human swallowed. 

Warm tears spilled out of Chris’ eyes, his whole-body shuddering and shivering. “That was dis-ugh!” He cut Chris off as he pushed in another piece of meat. Once more Chris struggled to spit out of the meat, but it was less of a fight than before. 

When Josh pushed in the next piece, Chris had apparently become resigned and didn’t even protest. He continued this until most of a rabbit was consumed, and only then did he climb off Chris and chitter disapprovingly at him.

Chris sat up and used his good arm to wipe at his mouth, gagging and spitting at the cave floor. “That,” Chris started, once he finished with his dramatics, “was totally uncool and uncalled for, dude!” He spat out at Josh.

Josh chuffed. His human was fed, he was fed, and they were all content and not going to starve now. That was what was important after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's holidays were good!


	3. February 15-16, Chris

When Chris first encountered Wendigos on that hellish nightmare of a night, he didn’t put much thought into Wendigos beyond the idea that they were man-eating monsters that came out at night – like some sort of demented real-life Minecraft monster – to hunt unsuspecting people and _eat them_. 

Most of the thoughts that he remembered from that night revolved around three main things: a) how to avoid them, b) how to survive till morning to escape them, and c) varying concerns over Josh and the fact he was left out there with them.

He had a vague memory of talking to the old timer before he, well, lost his head. Something about whether a Wendigo could be changed back, or if they retained their human memories or humanity. At the time, it hadn’t been something he was putting major thought into considering what all was going on.

He didn’t really have much of a choice about thinking too much into it now. 

Keeping an eye on the Wendigos – and his Wendibro – were the only real source of mental entertainment – he used that term loosely – available to him. 

By his best estimate, it had been a couple of days since his tumble down into the mines and been thrust under the care – and once again, the term was used loosely – of his Wendibro, Josh. Wendibro, because like hell was he going to refer to Josh completely as one of those monsters.

He wasn’t. He just wasn’t. Not completely, anyways. If he was a complete full Wendigo, then that would mean that none of Chris’ friend remained. Josh was still in there, at least, in some capacity. Chris was sure of it.

If Josh wasn’t in there, then Chris would have been eaten by now. Then he wouldn’t have wasted the last couple of days feeding Chris and trying to take care of him. 

There was also the matter of Josh’s mutations, or lack of them. Not to say that there weren’t mutations, but they just weren’t progressing. Every day, Chris woke just as the sun was setting and called out for Josh to check to see if the mutations prompted by the Wendigo curse had progressed. 

As far as Chris knew, once it started, it was usually a fairly quick transformation. Yet Josh seemed frozen, stuck mid change. Not exactly Wendigo, but not exactly Josh either.

His daily check done, Chris then usually tried to busy himself with the small cave that they stayed in. Something to keep his body busy so the ‘day’ passed faster and while he tried to think of what to do.

Did he try to escape? Go back to civilization and try to inform the others that Josh was still up here? 

Would they care? Or would they just leave Josh to this fate? How would Josh even handle Chris leaving? What if the reason his transformation was stuck was because of him?

Wishful thinking, he knew, but still… the possibility existed. What if Chris left and by the time he returned, Josh was…

No.

No, he couldn’t think about that, and couldn’t even believe that he would think of leaving Josh. Not again. _Never_ again. He would have to take Josh with him if he left. But could he take Josh back to civilization?

Probably not.

But then he would have to stay here, forever, with Josh. And Chris wasn’t entirely too sure how he felt about that yet.

Which circled him back to thoughts of leaving, and well, that cycle of thoughts tended to occupy his mind like a never-ending rollercoaster loop that Chris wanted desperately off.

Of course, there was the occasional distraction. The most frequent of which was whenever Chris would get this unsettling feeling of being watched and would look up to see the source being milky white eyes staring at him from the entrance of the cave.

His heart seized every time it happened, his body freezing as the thought of ‘this is it, I’m finally gonna die’ would cross his mind repeatedly.

Yet he never did.

One growl from Josh was all it usually took for the eyes to vanish into the darkness of the mines like a bat out of hell. Part of Chris wondered what Josh had done to make the other Wendigos avoid him; another part of him didn’t want to know.

Was it fear, respect, or something else that kept them at bay? How long could Chris rely on it to keep him safe?

Would Josh mourn him or eat him? Or both?

Chris wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to any of these questions.

But they were questions that echoed in his mind, the frequency increasing the more and more his arm bothered him. He needed a sling, especially if he hoped to _survive_ in this cruel place.

The issue there being that Chris wasn’t much of a boy scout. He could vaguely remember how to make a sling. His phone would have been useful to have for looking up how to create a proper sling and the materials for it, but he figured the cold would have sapped the battery by now anyway. He would have killed for some cooked meat too, but that was neither here nor there.

“Hey, Josh?” Chris whisper-yelled into the cave, his gaze darting around as he looked up at the high ledges barely visible in the poor lightning as if he could find a Josh-shaped lump hiding up there. 

There was no response. No click or chirp or whatever else noises Josh made now. Nothing. There wasn’t even the whisper of claws scratching lightly on stone. Josh wasn’t here, which honestly could mean a lot of things. 

Josh could have been of getting water since Chris was running low, or trying to find him entertainment. At least, that’s what Chris assumed Josh was attempting to provide whenever he returned with random mining tools or illegible pieces of paper.

It was possible that Josh was just ignoring Chris, but he doubted that. It seemed like Josh always had a response for Chris anytime he spoke. It definitely helped with the loneliness, even if it made Chris feel like a crazy old lady talking to his pet cat.

Although who exactly the pet and owner was in this situation was unclear.

He sighed as silence – or as much silence as the crumbling ruins of a mine could produce – continued to answer him.

Josh was out and about, which meant… He glanced at the entrance of the mine and bit his lip in thought. If Josh was out and about, then that meant that the others were probably out and about. Which theoretically meant that the mines would be the emptiest about now.

Sure there would probably be one or two – or a few more – in the mines, but there wouldn’t be _all_ of them like during the day. And Josh wasn’t here to tell him ‘no’ or to ‘stay’. 

Chris could just walk on out, explore the mines. Maybe find the sanitorium that Mike had partially blown up – and who had known that Class President Michael Munroe was such a pyromaniac? – since surely there would be _some sort_ of medical supplies there, right?

Plus he could get some water while he was out.

He would have melted some of the snow and ice, but that required the f-word. And someone – cough, Josh, cough – didn’t like even hearing the word. Any arguments about needing heat was always promptly shut down, usually by Josh shoving Chris into a pile of furs and then piling more on top. And if Chris still protested, Josh wasn’t afraid to add himself to the pile until Chris’ protests fell silent.

And cooking? It seemed like the mere concept was inconceivable to Josh now. If anything, it made Josh think Chris was hungry, and well, if he didn’t eat when Josh thought he was hungry… It was easier to just eat whatever Josh presented him, so long as it wasn’t human.

He grabbed his tiny miner hat as he ambled to the door, pausing every so often to look back up to the high ledges to see if Josh would suddenly and magically appear to squeak or screech at him as he tended to do anytime he though Chris was headed for the door.

Josh never appeared, and thus, Chris took that as all the permission he needed.

The mines were considerably darker than the cave had been, leaving Chris feeling more than a little uneasy. This was the perfect setting for a real-life horror movie, heck it had been the setting for more than one real-life horror movie. 

He supposed it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see further than five feet away from his face since it was dark enough in the cave that he wouldn’t have been able to see further than that even IF he had his glasses.

That fact didn’t make the horror-movie creepiness any better.

Of course, the Wendigo shriek that had echoed from much deeper in the mines the moment he stepped out of the cave didn’t help either. Maybe it was his imagination, but to him, that Shriek sounded an awful lot like ‘Hey guys, that one guy’s food is vulnerable and out of the cave, let’s take it and eat it!’

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as best he could. It was just his imagination, he told himself. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Besides falling to his death. Or being mauled by a Wendigo. Or being caught in a cave in. Or any of the other surefire ways he could die in this deathtrap of a mine. 

He stumbled along in the mines, heading who knew where, when he kicked something that clattered down the tunnel. He froze, waiting as he strained his ears to see if anything had come to investigate. The mines were hauntingly silent.

The silence, Chris decided, was more disturbing than the sounds of the shrieks. At least he knew where the Wendigo were when they shrieked.

He edged forward and felt along the ground like Velma from Scooby Doo trying to find her glasses, but he wasn’t looking for glasses. No, he was looking for whatever he had kicked. His hand came into contact with something wooden, and he was reminded of the strange wooden totems that had been scattered all around the mountain. 

It was surprisingly light as he picked it up, like it was hollow. When he turned it around, his gaze immediately fell to the faded – but no less bright – yellow outline of a butterfly. His stomach instantly plummeted as he seemed to fall forward into the hollow space of the totem that the butterfly outlined. 

He was in the cave with Josh, a stack of books well within reach of him. He was laying on his stomach, carefully ripping out the page of one of the books and then folding it up into what looked like a paper football. The football finished, he twisted around to flick it at Josh.

He blinked, coming back to himself as the totem slipped from his grasp and fell against the floor with a clatter. His body had sunk down to his knees and he panted before he rose and took a few hurried steps back away from the totem.

What the fuck had _that_ been? 

It was like that dream he had when he fell into the mines, but different. Shorter, more precise. His stomach rolled as unease settled around him, feeling like someone had just taken a bucket of Nickelodeon Slime™ and poured it over his head.

This wasn’t a dream, some fever/fall induced dream, but something that had happened while he was _awake_.

“What the fuck?” Chris whispered out loud. “What the ever-living fuck?”

Were they _visions_ , and if so, then visions of what? The future? That was… that was impossible and bullshit. Shit like that didn’t exist. But then again, he hadn’t believed that shit like man-eating monsters existed either.

A shriek echoed down the tunnel he was in, reminding him of where he was and how unsafe that was. “Fuck.” He whispered, before looking around and spotting one of the little wooden structures that dotted the mine shafts.

He ducked into it, just as he heard another loud shriek. 

He stood still, holding his breath in anticipation. He wished he could hold his heart still too. It was beating so loudly that he was sure that somehow the Wendigo would be able to find him just because of it.

The sound of rocks falling and the scratch of claws on stone had him tensing. It stopped right where he had been just a moment before, and Chris strained his ears to hear if it was going to move on or not.

It shrieked and Chris bit his lip to stop himself from making a noise. Inside his head, he was screaming a mantra of curse words; at himself, at the situation, at whatever was behind the wooden wall he was using as shelter.

It wasn’t Josh, that much was clear. 

There was something… different… about the screech, although Chris couldn’t quite place what exactly was so different about it.

He waited a good couple of minutes, breathing very shallowly as he listened for the creature to move on. They didn’t typically wait right? They screeched to get their prey to move, and then when nothing happened, they moved on… right?

Shrieks echoed around him from further away and Chris let out a small sigh of relief. It must have moved on and he just hadn’t heard it.

The thought of the dream he had when he fell into the mines passed through his mind just as he was sliding out of the structure… and into the line of sight of the Wendigo. It shrieked instantly into his face ~~– hello déjà vu –,~~ a noise that Chris’ brain instantly translated into ‘ha ha, I got you now, food!’

He moved backwards into the shelter in the dream, but here and now, in this instance, he darted to the side, ducking under the swipe that would have gutted him – and had gutted him in the dream – and bolting.

He ran blindly through the mines, the sound of the Wendigo chasing after him spurring him on.

They were faster than he was. It should have caught him by now. Was it… was it playing with him?!

He skidded to an intersection that he didn’t recall passing through. Had he passed Josh’s cave? His safe spot? Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

He didn’t have time; the screeches of the Wendigos were surrounding him. He needed to move, now. There was light and he ran towards that, ducking just barely in time to avoid another swipe from a Wendigo.

The same one? A different one? Chris couldn’t tell. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to look. 

The creature lunged, the sound of it propelling itself off the rock echoed with its victorious screech as it collided with his body and sent them both sailing forward.

He fell onto his stomach, the pain from his arm blacking out his vision for a moment. Self-preservation fueled his body, forcing it into motion as he somehow scrambled onto his back and kicked the creature off. 

The moonlight shining down from the gaping maw in the ceiling of the cave did not make the Wendigo look friendlier. Not with its soulless white eyes and the rotting meat suit it called a body and those teeth, and claws, and oh god, he was going to die. “Fuck me.” Chris muttered, as the creature launched itself back at Chris. 

He had heard that in life or death situations, time slowed down. He heard that a person’s life flashed before their eyes, a recap of the life they had lived that had led up to the point of their demise. A chance for regrets or fond memories. 

He had experienced the time-slowing down thing before. Most notably when shooting the Wendigo that had killed the old man in front of him.

That slow motion was happening again now. The Wendigo looked down at him and Chris swore that he could see himself reflected into those milky white eyes as it leaped towards him, its claws out stretched for where Chris’ throat was. 

Josh came out of nowhere, slamming into the Wendigo midair. Time resumed its normal speed, sound filtering back in with no warning. The air was filled with a cacophony of shrieks, screams, trills, clicks, and every other noise that Chris had ever heard Josh make. 

It seemed that every Wendigo and their sibling that showed up and were present, watching Josh and the Wendigo that had attacked Chris.

The Wendigo kicked off Josh, who perfected a tripoint landing and immediately threw himself back at the Wendigo. If it wasn’t for the fact that Josh was fighting a Wendigo that very much wanted to kill him, Chris would have given Josh a whistle and cheer over the display of agility and athleticism.

As it stood, he was more than content to stay as still as possible in the moonlit center of the cavern and hope that none of the other Wendigo present decided to take the opportunity to kill him while Josh was preoccupied.

The fight didn’t last long. Chris watched, both in horror and awe, as the two struggled, throwing each other into the ground and wall before Josh finally got the upper hand and just… ripped the Wendigo’s head clean off. 

Chris swallowed thickly, the moment replaying itself in his mind but with him in place of the other Wendigo. Josh could do that at any time. If he hadn’t triggered whatever it was that made Josh keep him alive, then that would have been him. 

Evidently, he wasn’t the only one thinking ‘that could have been me’ because the sounds from the other Wendigos fell immediately silent. Josh stalked around the arena before letting out a screech that was ten times louder than any other screech Chris had heard from him.

The last time he had heard a screech that loud… it had been from that Wendigo that had killed the old man. 

One Wendigo dropped down from a wall and lunged towards Josh only for Josh to swiftly deny it and throw it into a wall instead. He shrieked at it, and… holy shit.

Chris’s jaw fell to the floor when the Wendigo crouched down and backed away in what was clearly submission. 

Another angry shriek sounded from behind Chris. He tensed, thinking there was no way Josh could save him in time when the sound of the Wendigo being tackled echoed through the cave. There were more hisses and screeches before silence.

Josh was still in front of Chris, so it couldn’t have been him to defend Chris. So then… who?

Josh was pacing, his gaze fixed firmly on something from behind Chris. There was the unsettling creeping sensation of something behind him, and Josh let out a low warning growl that echoed across the chamber.

The Wendigo behind quickly backed off, letting out quick but sharp trills and chirps in succession. Josh stalked forward – on two legs – to stand before Chris, where he shrieked again, looking around the cavern at things Chris could only vaguely see the shapes of. 

Chris closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. This was it. He had finally pissed Josh off and now that there was a fight over him, Josh would eat him and… and… his thoughts stuttered to a halt as he registered the soft purr coming from in front of him.

Unbidden, his eyes opened, and his gaze locked onto Josh’s. Was… was Josh… _purring?!_

“Mine.”

Chris wasn’t sure that he had heard correctly, despite the clarity and conciseness of the word. There was chatter from the Wendigo crowd, but none who dared to challenge Josh. 

Chris’ heart felt like it was going to give out at any time. He couldn’t breathe. The first word he heard from Josh since forever, ad it was used to claim possession of him after a literal fight to the death over him, and spoken more to a crowd than to him.

The Wendigo behind him let out a soft trill, startling Chris into remembering its existence. Which was a mistake on his part, but could he really be blamed when Josh _spoke_?

Josh huffed, eyeing either Chris or the Wendigo behind Chris. The Wendigo let out a sharp and short chirp, and slowly Chris turned around to look at it. He figured if something were to happen, Josh was there to rip its head off – since that was clearly a thing he could do.

Of course, moving reminded Chris all too much of the _lovely_ gift the other Wendigo had given him before Josh had intervened. He bit his lip to keep his hiss of pain in. There was no need to let the Wendigos around him know that he was weak and injured, even if they could probably smell it.

Especially with how close this Wendigo was to him.

This Wendigo didn’t look nearly as horrible as the other Wendigo that Chris had seen – minus Josh, of course. Then again, that might have been because this Wendigo had defended him from another, thus making him better in Chris’ eyes from the get-go.

Its flesh didn’t look nearly as rotted or decayed, just gray and taut against bones. It actually reminded him more of Gollum from ‘The Lord of the Rings’ than anything. It was in a very low crouch, its basically nonexistent stomach nearly dragging against the ground as it attempted to appear as small and nonthreatening as possible.

It took a single step closer. 

Josh’s responding snarl was immediate, and the poor thing nearly fell over its elongated limbs to scurry back at least three steps. 

Chris’ brain was quick to note that this was the second Wendigo to act submissive towards Josh. It also noted that there still hadn’t been anymore challengers to Josh or his claim on Chris.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from within him and he choked from the effort of keeping it contained as the realization that his friend was the motherfucking _Alpha_ Wendigo hit him.

Wendigos had a pack mentality and Josh was the Alpha. The Alpha. Josh, the Alpha, had put his foot down and said ‘don’t touch my human’; and clearly this Wendigo was trying to get on Josh’s good side by first defending Chris and then submitting to Josh. 

Because Josh was the _Alpha_ , and oh shit, shit, shit… _Josh was the Alpha_ , which meant that they were never going to be leaving the mountain. 

Well, there were some things he could add to his list of knowledge about Wendigos:

  * Wendigos have Packs.
  * Packs have a leader, an Alpha.
  * Josh was the Alpha.
  * He (Chris) belonged to the Alpha.
  * Wendigos truly were murderous man-cats because they could fucking Purr.



The last fact was brought on Josh’s resumed purring. He turned back to look at his friend, ignoring the echoing purr from the Gollum-like Wendigo behind him.

Was the purring meant to be a relaxing sensation? Chris could vaguely recall some documentary talking about how cats purr for comfort or something. Did that apply for Wendigos too? He thought it might have since he was caught in the sudden desire to go back to the nest and take a long nap. 

Or maybe that was just his desire to get away from this situation talking.

Regardless, the more they purred, the more he could feel his hysteria ebb away. Josh chirped once Chris’ breath had moderately evened out as if to say, ‘better now?’

Chris found he couldn’t do much more than nod his head. His eyelids felt heavy, and even the pain felt like a distant memory. Sleep sounded like a nice perfect escape from reality – some whiskey wouldn’t be argued against either. Some part of his brain questioned why he’d rather be in the sticky, stinky pile of furs than his own home, but it was quiet and muted.

Josh let out a quiet trill at Chris’ nod, and reached over to gently pick Chris up bridal style. The movement jarred his wounds, and this time he couldn’t keep the hiss of pain from escaping. Instantly the purr started back up, a comforting rumble and vibration against Chris’ body that seemed to sooth away the pain of the injuries. 

“Using Jedi mind purring is not fair, bro.” Chris mumbled. He would have crossed his arms and pouted had his arm not been messed up and had the purring not had such an effect on him. 

If the other Wendigos made any protest to Josh taking him away, Chris didn’t notice. He didn’t notice much of anything until Josh was oh so gently putting him down in a familiar pile of furs. 

Josh paused in his purring to chirp out ‘stay.’

Chris blinked up at him blearily. “Don’t need to tell me twice. I’m not likely to leave without you again, bro.” The hysteria was starting to bubble back up and as if sensing that, Josh was pressed back against Chris as he resumed his purring.

“I officially hate the purring.” Chris half slurred, half mumbled. It was like a cat purring while laying on a person, it just made a person want to curl up and fall asleep. 

He blinked once, twice, three times and when he opened his eyes, he was staring up at an endless expanse of stars. There were soft flutters of _something_ tickling against his skin, brushing against his cheeks and hands and face. 

Somehow, he just knew that if he were to look to the side, he would see a butterfly.

Despite the peacefulness of the area, the thought left a cold pit of dread inside him. He had seen enough from the butterflies last time, he wasn’t interested in a repeat. 

“Doesn’t matter what you’re interested in.” Josh’s voice echoed across the clearing. Chris refused to look at him either, too terrified of how his mind would conjure his friend. There was the soft sound of footsteps against grass and flowers. “You have to look at a butterfly. You don’t have any other option.”

“I could stare at the sky or close my eyes.” Chris replied. “Why does it matter, you aren’t even real. This is just a dream.” Or at least, Chris assumed it was a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream, but he was fairly certain that he had last been in the cave with the real Josh and not in a clearing full of butterflies.

Josh scoffed and there was the sound of someone taking a seat near him. Chris still didn’t remove his gaze from the sky above.

“Believe what you want, but dreams can become reality.” There was a sharp edge to Josh’s words, something that instantly put Chris on edge. He blinked and for a moment the world became tinged in poisonous green which sent a chill of unease through him. “The butterfly flies with the possibilities of the future into the past on the wings of dreams.”

That sounded too poetic to be Josh. Hannan maybe, but not Josh. Josh wasn’t into artsy poetic stuff like that. He was into gore and horror movies and Mario Kart. 

Chris hummed and shook his head slightly, trying his hardest not to disturb the butterflies. “That’s along the lines of what Hannah said last time.” Chris paused. “Am I going to watch you change too?”

Here, he could recall with almost crystal clarity the way Hannah changed as she walked towards him. Maybe this was the Wendigo, just wearing Josh’s voice. 

“I hadn’t realized taking her form would reflect so poorly in your mind, but this one seems to be more appeasing.” ‘Josh’ replied, although Chris supposed that it basically just confirmed that it wasn’t Josh at all.

“Who are you?” Chris asked. 

Not-Josh laughed at the question, and Chris’ stomach squirmed at the sound. Fuck, he missed it. Hearing it again was almost enough to break his heart, especially knowing that he may never hear it again.

“Pick a butterfly.” ‘Josh’ purred. Not the purr that had put Chris to sleep, but the kind of purr that _humans_ could do. Not that this ‘Josh’ was human. Chris wasn’t sure what exactly it was. A figment of his imagination? Part of his psyche? Something supernatural? He didn’t know. “Accept the gift which I have bestowed upon you.”

It wasn’t an answer, but Chris didn’t really expect one. It did, however, give him some insight into what/who this was. Not answering things was a common theme in fairytales, right? Supernatural forces never answered any questions, especially questions of identity. 

Not-Josh was sitting to his right, so he looked over to the left instead. ‘Josh’s’ laughter echoed through the clearing once more as Chris’ gazed settling on a beautiful white butterfly sitting delicately on a lavender flower. It fluttered its wings and flew up into the sky, becoming a diamond star before the sky fell down upon him, the shards falling in time with the beat of the butterfly’s wings and ‘Josh’s’ rich laughter.

He was standing in the Washington’s living room of one of their upstate summer homes. Not the LA house or the Mt. Washington Lodge, but another house. Josh sat at the top of the stairs; his gaze fixed firmly on the pacing form of Mrs. Washington down below.

Besides the medical mask across his face, like he was surgeon about to go into surgery, he looked almost… normal. Minus a couple of other things, like the slight scaring at the corners of one of his eyes, or the pallor tone of his formerly bronze skin. There were bags under his eyes, visible even to Chris at the bottom of the stairs.

He was wearing a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie that Chris was about ninety percent sure belonged to him.

“Christopher.” Mrs. Washington called his name, and Chris jumped, spinning around to look at her.

Her normally well-kept hair was a put up in a messy bun and there were bags under her eyes too. There was movement at the top of the stairs and both she and Chris looked up to see the spot where Josh had once been was vacant now. Mrs. Washington sighed. She adjusted the phone that Chris just now realized she was holding. “We need to talk…”

She turned away, continuing to pace the room. In the window, a stained-glass windchime turned revealing a bright yellow butterfly. It beat its wings and the world dissolved into a white foggy smoke that filled the room, transforming it into a… a hotel. 

Sam stood in the doorway; her lips pursed as her gaze swept over the room. In the bed by the window, Ashley laid with her back to the door, her eyes wide as she stared at the wall. A heartbeat passed, and then another, and then… Sam turned around and exited, quietly closing the door behind her.

Ashley let out a sigh of relief and slipped out of the bed. She rushed over to a still unpacked suitcase and dug out some clothes, hurriedly putting them on. She was just about to the door when it opened, and Sam stood there, frowning at her.

“You were going to follow me.” Sam accused. 

“You aren’t telling us anything!” Ashley didn’t deny the accusation. If anything, she agreed with it. She had been about to follow Sam. “Where were you going?” 

The hotel blurred and faded before Sam could reply, swirling away like sand in a wave. It slipped between his fingertips, unable to stay grasped in his hold. A wave knocked into him, and he became painfully aware of a pressing weight on top him. 

The purring made him think of maybe a cat, and that was weird because he didn’t own a cat. 

He blinked himself awake, staring up dancing dust motes in the small shafts of sunlight. Right. Mines, Wendigos, Josh… the purring was the giant man-cat known as Josh. 

He sighed, not that Josh seemed to notice or care and then shifted, attempting to get out from under Josh, only to gasp as he was assaulted by pain on both his back and his shoulder. Curse words slipped out of his mouth as he stopped moving, and laid back into the furs. Now that he’d agitated the wounds, they weren’t letting themselves be forgotten. His arm was a slow steady throbbing pain, but his back felt like he’d laid down on a fire grill. The purring increased in volume, and he looked over to see Josh watching him. 

“Not creepy at all.” Chris hissed. Josh paused in his purring long enough to chuff before slowly climbing off of Chris. He tilted his head to the side and let out a curious little chirp. 

Josh’s retreat, while slow, was painful, as every move Josh made him shift, even if it was so slightly. He tried to hold himself as still as possible, and a small whimper escaped him when Josh was finally off of him. Another questioning chirp echoed across the cavern. 

“Fuck man… I am so happy you tore that fuckers head off because if you hadn’t, then I would be asking you to.” Chris muttered as he forced himself to sit up.

He hissed at the pain, closing his eyes and forcing himself to just breath. His whole back felt sticky and wet, and a quick look told them that there was indeed blood on the furs where he had been laying. Josh let out a low whine, and circled around him.

Chris pulled off his top layer, and hissed at the stinging of the wound as he moved. “Fuck.” He whimpered as he attempted to take off another layer. He wasn’t sure how he was going to clean it out, given Josh still hadn’t gotten him more water, but he was certain that letting the material stick to the wound was not good for him. 

His arm was protesting the movements nearly as much as his back, and he blinked back the tears at the pain, and bit back curses that threated to escape. He jerked as he felt pressure on his back, and forced himself to relax as he heard Josh’s whine.

Sharp claws ghosted at his skin as Josh attempted – and succeeded – in helping to remove the clothes. Chris’ mental mantra of ‘please don’t accidently cut me’ was apparently unneeded. Chris couldn’t think of any time in his life that Josh had been this gentle with anything.

The offending clothing off, Josh nuzzled against the nap of Chris’ neck, sending goosebumps across his skin. He swallowed thickly, and cleared his throat. 

“Guess I’ll stay here while you go get some water to cle—woah! Wait, Josh!” As he spoke, Josh made a small huffing noise and then flat out _licked_ his back. 

First, that hurt; second, he was being _licked_. What if Josh decided that he liked how he tasted? He flinched away, and instantly froze as Josh let out a low growl. One of Josh’s clawed hands was suddenly wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him still. The other was pressed against his back, and fuck if this whole situation didn’t hurt. 

“Josh.” He whimpered, and closed his eyes, telling himself that he was fine. Josh was not tasting him. No, he was just helping with the injury. That’s what… animals… did, wasn’t it? Lick wounds to help stimulate healing; although, he was pretty sure that this wouldn’t help. 

After all, he saw the stuff Josh ate, and he was almost positive that that was not sanitary. He shuddered at the thought of all the bacteria that was breeding in Josh’s mouth, and the fact that it was now on his back, in his wounds. Eventually, Josh forced him down onto his stomach, and Chris had to bit his hand to keep in the whimpers from the pain that was caused every time Josh dug his tongue into a scratch.

After what feel like forever, Josh pulled away from the wound, removing his grip from Chris’ neck. Instead, he nuzzled at the base of his neck, letting out a soft purr. 

“Uh… thanks, bro.” He chirped, and pulled away, and Chris told himself that his racing heart was just because of the fact that he was still terrified out his mind that Josh would change his mind and eat him. 

Furs went flying from behind him, and he turned as best as he could to see Josh sorting out the nest, finding bloody furs and throwing them to the other side of the cave. He was cleaning his nest out, because he knew Chris didn’t like sleeping on bloody furs. 

That was surprisingly sweet and thoughtful of Josh.

Once finished, Josh helped to maneuver Chris into a more comfortable position in the nest. The cold mountain and mine air stung against his back, but the wound did, admittedly, feel better. 

Josh chirped out a sharp ‘stay’ from somewhere in the cave, and Chris nodded. Like he was going to go anywhere in the shape he was in.

He closed his eyes and told himself it would be only for a moment, but when he reopened them, it was to the sight of a miner’s hat full of water before him.

“Thanks, Josh.” He muttered as he reached out and took a sip of it as best he could while staying on his stomach. Josh trilled from beside him, and Chris would have jumped if he wasn’t used to this already. Instead he looked over, to see Josh tearing apart a poor rabbit. 

As if suddenly realizing that it was feeding time, his stomach let out a low growl. Josh tore off a tiny bit of the rabbit, and offered it to him. 

Eating raw rabbit wasn’t as horrific as it had once been. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t too terribly bad. He supposed it could be worse. Josh could have forced human flesh onto him. So instead of fussing, he let out a resigned sigh and accepted the meat. 

Josh let out an encouraging soft noise, and continued to offer small pieces off of the rabbit. With every bite Chris took, Josh cooed comfortingly, like he was praising Chris for taking the rabbit without fuss for once. 

He wanted to curl up, but he knew his back, and his arm wouldn’t allow it, so instead he resigned himself to a few days, at the least, of being bored out of his mind while he waited for the wounds to heal. 

On the bright side, there was no annoying alarm clocks to wake him up and no mother to nag at him to go to his therapist or to school or to hang out with his friends. On the downside, he wasn’t sure he would be able to last a few days without doing something to entertain himself. 

At least he had his weird dreams to ponder over. He sighed as he buried his head into the soft rabbit furs that he used as pillows. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as he thought they’d be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while, but I'm back! This WFH has really given me exactly what I needed to re-kickstart myself into writing (well, re-writing) this fic. Good news, guys: I'm actually done. Well, mostly done. Just need to do some tweaks, get Ghost's approval. You know, the whole shoot and shebang. But for the most part? Finished.
> 
> So, basically, what I'm saying... is expect Weekly updates. That's right. You heard me: Weekly Updates. And I'm actually gonna stick with the schedule this time, promise (because you know, the fic's done. Finished. Written!). I'll be working on the Sequel in the interim, so hopefully when this is done, we can just Jump right into that. :D 
> 
> OH! I haven't really been doing the 'Previous on' thing. Did you guys want me to start that back up, or nah?


	4. February 16-18, Josh

Josh’s emotions were a melting pot of contradictions. On one hand, he felt infuriatingly annoyed, but on the other, he felt stupidly proud.

It was annoying that Chris had left the cave and gotten hurt. It was annoying that Josh hadn’t been fast enough to prevent Chris from getting hurt. But on the flip side, he had fed and watered Chris, as well as cleaned up his wounds. Plus, none of the others would hopefully ever bother Chris again.

The respect and fear that the others now harbored for him soothed something deep inside him that he hadn’t realized needed to be soothed until it happened. That was a pleasant side effect of Chris’ unfortunate little adventure.

That and Chris’ apparent newfound obedience.

He chirped as he offered his human another piece of fresh meat. He couldn’t possibly express how happy he was that his human was finally not putting up a fight before eating meat. Now if only he could get some of the really good meat. The meat that made his mouth water, and his stomach howl with longing. 

Technically, he could get it, but Chris wouldn’t eat it because he was picky and only liked fresh meat. Silly human.

Chris rolled his eyes at the chirp and that was another thing that made him happy, that his pet was learning to understand him. Chris buried his head back into the furs when he finished that piece, and Josh chirped as he offered another.

“No, Josh.” Well, he understood those words. That meant his human was done, but he hadn’t eaten as much as he had before in the past. Perhaps the pain made him less hungry? He let out a questioning chirp and tried to understand what Chris’ responding groan could mean.

Humans were so weird. He was so much happier now, and he wished Chris would see that, would try to join him. 

If Chris had joined him and eaten the good meat at the beginning, then maybe Chris would have listened to him in the beginning and wouldn’t have gotten so hurt. He told Chris not to leave the cave, and what had he done? Left the cave. 

Well, he hoped Chris knew better now. Although, it wouldn’t have been a problem if Chris would just… well, listened to him from the beginning.

He huffed at Chris’ dismissal of more food, because who didn’t want more food – _The Hunger Consumes_ – and ignored the hand movement that Chris made at the noise. He knew it was mean, but he also knew that it wasn’t made in truth. He was certain that Chris liked him, least that’s what his dreams and memories told him.

Memories and dreams were hazy and drenched in a green fog that left Josh feeling unsettled, but he knew they were important. He couldn’t – and wouldn’t – allow the green fog to consume them, to cover them up and hide them from him again.

The memories with Chris were the clearest. He could recall the first time he met Chris. They were both so small, so weak. Chris had seemed so sad then, he still did in some ways but just like back then, Josh had helped to make Chris better. 

Both times, Chris was better because of _him_. It made him want to trill and purr and chirp in smug contentment that _he_ had been the one to make Chris better. Not _Ashley_ , but _him_. 

Chris was _his_ now, not hers, or anyone else’s. _His_. Chris was his and the pack knew and accepted this now. And since Chris was his, that made Chris technically part of the pack as well. Whether they were happy about it or not, Chris was pack, and pack meant they wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Not unless they wished to risk Josh’s ire, and well… He didn’t think any of them would chance that.

Still new-found obedience or not, Josh knew his Chris. This would only last for so long before Chris grew bored and did something that would lead to him aggravating his wounds. Unfortunately, Josh couldn’t take Chris out hunting or teach him the ways of the mines until he recovered.

He would have to find something else to keep Chris preoccupied until then, and what better time to look than now? Of the things Josh had previously gotten to entertain him, the papers seemed to be the most popular, even if he often had to hold them up super close to his face and complained about the lack of light.

Josh didn’t typically like visiting the building further up the mountain, but it was the best place to typically find paper for Chris. He sighed to himself and chirped out a quick ‘stay’ to Chris.

Chris waved his hand in a ‘whatever’ kind of way that made Josh skeptical, but after what happened last time Chris ventured out without him, he doubted Chris would do that again anytime soon.

Keeping that in mind, he climbed up and out of his cave, and let out a shriek once he was out of the caves to let the others know where he was. A few of them responded, and he nodded to himself. The pack seemed to be fine, so he raced up to building.

He knew that some of the others shared his discomfort of the building, albeit for differing reasons. Some of them had been held captive here, some of them had sour memories. Some of them just liked to take their anger out on the building, or to play games.

Josh’s feelings on the building were… complicated. The Sanatorium was old, but Josh – or at least a part of him – was older. Memories of Josh’s mother warning him to stay away from the Sanatorium lest he got hurt or lost tended to mix with the dreams of something older, of green corridors streaked with blood and the screams of the inmates mixing with the screeches of his pack.

Speaking of the screeches of his pack… some of them called out to Josh as he passed. He slowed to a stop, wondering if there was something wrong after all. 

There wasn’t. They just wanted to know if he wanted to hunt elk with them. The request chaffed at him. He could hunt elk well enough on his _own_. He didn’t need assistance or help like _they_ did. 

Besides he was on a mission for his human. Hunting could wait, especially since he hunted rabbits earlier.

One of them shrieked to get his attention, and he snapped at it, finding amusement at how it almost immediately sunk down to its belly in a submissive manner.

Very quietly, it trilled and chirped out ‘Chris’ and he growled. Why was it asking about Chris? Was it threatening Chris because if so, that was not going to go over well with him. Especially after he’d challenged the others to deny his choice when Chris had left the cave.

One of the others quickly interjected with an inquisitive ‘hungry?’ Ah. That made a bit more sense. They were wondering if Chris was hungry. Well, that was… unexpected.

Part of him was insulted, like, of course his human wasn’t hungry. He didn’t starve his human. They all knew the law of the land: _The Hunger Consumes._ If they hadn’t, then they wouldn’t have survived for as long as they had up here.

Yet, despite the irritation at the unintentional insult, there was another part of him was satisfied that they were making an effort to accept his human. Although that might have been due to fear of him, or a desire to get on his good side by caring about the same thing he did. Regardless, he gave them a negative chirp, letting them know that Chris was satisfied. They accepted that response, and he trilled at them to let him know that he was pleased they’d asked about Chris before he departed the group.

He was about to continue up to the Sanatorium when the smaller guest lodge caught his attention. It was closer to the mines and didn’t hold nearly the same amount of discomfort as the Sanatorium . Getting into the building with its broken door was no problem, but once inside, he froze.

He walked around the living room, reclaiming vague green tinted memories of his past here. He didn’t spend much time here… but there had been a time or two that he had begged his father to let him and Chris and maybe some of the other guys spend time here without the girls – without his sisters and their friends.

He shook his head to escape the memories, grabbed some books from around the cabin, and bolted back out the door. That wasn’t his life anymore. He wasn’t weak, wasn’t human. He was more than human; better, stronger, more powerful.

He ran into the other that had helped to defend Chris on his way back and idly regarded him for a moment. He trilled quietly to the other, who looked back at him and trilled back in confusion. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to express what he wanted, but when he chirped the noises for ‘Chris’, the other perked up.

‘What about him?’ The other questioned, tilting his head to the side. Josh handed him a few of the books that he had grabbed and jerked his head in a ‘follow me’ motion. The other hesitated for only a moment before following after Josh.

Chris was exactly where Josh had left him, for once. “Bring me some goodies?” Chris asked as Josh dropped the books off where Chris could easily get to them. The other Josh had brought with him followed his lead, and Chris’ attention switched to him. “Oh! You brought Gollum with you. Awesome! Is this where you start bringing in different members and have them get used to me?”

Josh stiffened, and the other tensed, glancing tentatively between Chris, Josh, and the exit of Josh’s cave. Had Chris given the other a… name? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Well, what else am I supposed to call it?” Chris asked, arching an eyebrow. “Wendigo Number Two? Nah, I’ll pass. He reminds me of Gollum, you know, from LotR, so I’m going with that.”

Chris _had_ named the other. Yeah, Josh wasn’t sure how he felt about this at all. Josh let out a low growl and as if on command the other – Gollum – sunk down into a low submissive crouch. He let out a few whimpers, a poor attempt at explaining that he wasn’t trying to steal Chris away.

“Josh, chill.” Chris calling his name brought his attention back to the human. Chris smiled at him, and Josh mentally squirmed at the feeling the expression caused within him. “You’re still my number one Wendibro, dude. So chill. Him getting a name won’t change anything between us.”

Tension leaked out of both Josh and Gollum. That was reassuring to Josh. Of course Chris wouldn’t replace him. He was the strongest, the fastest. None could compare to him, who wouldn’t want Josh? Especially over Gollum. 

Gollum let out a hesitant inquisitive chirp, asking if he was free to go, and Josh hissed at him, still mildly miffed at how Chris had taken to him. “Josh.” Chris reprimanded and Josh hissed again. He waited a moment before dismissing Gollum, who scurried out of the cave like Josh was chasing him.

Good.

“It’s adorable that you’re jealous.” Chris muttered, propping himself up on his good arm. “Like, really Josh? Don’t you know that you’re the only Wendigo for me?”

Josh side eyed Chris and sniffled, although internally he preened at the words. “No fishing for compliments, jackass.” Chris chided him playfully, rolling his eyes. 

Josh huffed and scooped up Chris’ water bowl to go fill it, again. He took his time heading to the water mill, thinking over a couple different ideas. Chris’ acceptance to Gollum had been unexpected but now that Josh was thinking on it, it was also an opportunity. 

Josh clearly couldn’t always be there in case Chris decided to explore, but maybe, Gollum could be. Not that he would need to worry about that for a little while. Not until Chris healed more. 

He continued to toy with the idea even after dropping off the water back at the cave and heading out for his hunt. 

Although he didn’t need to join in with any of the others, this time when they invited him, he accepted. Normally Chris ate rabbit, but he supposed the variation would be good for him. Besides, the larger fur from the elk would help to replace the smaller ones lost from Chris’ injury. 

Chris’ face when Josh threw down the spoils of his hunt was priceless, and he preened at the startled, “Good job, bro” that came from him. 

By the time they were done eating, the sun was just starting to rise. He glanced up at his ledge, and then at Chris and huffed once before flopping down beside his human. Chris tensed beside him, but Josh ignored that as he nuzzled into Chris’ side, letting out a soft purr once he found a comfortable position. 

Chris’ heart was erratic, but calmed to a more reasonable pace as Josh continued to purr. He drifted off to the combined sounds of his own purr and Chris’ heartbeat. 

Of course, the peace didn’t last.

As Josh had somewhat predicted, by the second day of confinement, Chris was getting stir-crazy. He had taken to walking around the cave again, messing with the nest – it was fine, why did Chris insist on always digging through it – and just being a general nuisance.

Josh huffed as he watched Chris go through the nest for the umpteenth time. 

Chris held up a few different furs, making a face as he appraised them. They were apparently found wanting. He glanced over at the pile of clothing from other humans that he had thrown in the corner of the cave before letting out a very resigned sigh and heading over there.

“I need clothes.” Chris muttered, more to himself than to Josh. “Whoever these belong to… I am so fucking sorry. I just… I need clothes.”

…

Was he talking to the original owners? Well, that was ridiculous. They were dead and gone, devoured by Josh and the others. They wouldn’t care if Chris used their clothes.

“I’ll need to cut parts of the back out…” Chris muttered as he picked up one of the jackets. He glanced over at Josh and let out a contemplative hum. “Hey Josh?”

Josh chirped at his name, but didn’t bother to move from his spot on the ‘discarded fur’ pile. Chris wrinkled his nose as he approached, and stopped before Josh to hold out the jacket. 

“Do you think you could cut this?” He asked. 

Josh snorted. Did hunger consume? Of course he could cut that, what kind of question was that? Chris had seen him tear through much tougher material than this.

“Yeah, thought so.” Chris muttered. “Alright, then could you… right about… here?” He handed Josh the jacket after showing him where he wanted it to be cut and then closed his eyes as he turned away.

Josh didn’t understand the purpose of that, but he wasn’t exactly able to ask Chris that. He snorted to himself and cut where he was requested, letting out a low trill when finished. When Chris didn’t open his eyes or react, Josh reached out and gently pressed his claws against Chris’ face to get his attention.

Chris flinched, his eyes opening. He smiled awkwardly and took a step back, but not before first taking back the jacket. “Thanks bro.”

Josh chirped back that it was no problem, and Chris shook his head as he tried on the jacket. He grimaced briefly from the pain, but seemed fine once it was actually on. “That’s better. What do you think, how do I look?”

Josh shrugged and chirped out a nonchalant answer. Chris snorted. “Thanks bro, that’s super helpful.” He replied sarcastically before pausing, and staring at the cave wall. “Great.” He muttered. “I’m understanding Wendigo. That’ll certainly get me hired.”

Josh tilted his head, letting out a questioning trill. What was wrong with understanding Wendigo? Josh thought that was fantastic. Communication would be so much easier if Chris could just speak Wendigo. Not just between the two of them, but between Chris and the rest of the pack as well.

“Right.” Chris shook his head. “Alright. I’ve got clothes, now to get a bath.” He glanced at the water bowl and then at the entrance to the cave. “Can’t I go somewhere with more water, bro? You can come supervise or something.”

If Josh had his way, Chris would be stuck here in this cave, wrapped up in the nest where it was safe and warm. If Josh had his way, Chris would never leave.

But he knew that wasn’t the way anything worked. He gave his affirmative, grudgingly, and tried to reason with himself that the way Chris’ face lit up was worth it.

On the bright side, Gollum had agreed to Josh’s plan to have him follow Chris around. Small mercies, he supposed.

Still, he wished Chris would allow himself more time to recover. Being out and about in the mines without injuries was already dangerous, there was no need to invite further trouble with injuries.

But he knew trying to keep Chris from exploring wouldn’t end well and… it wasn’t like Chris asked for much from this adventure, just to clean himself. He led Chris to the pool where he had first found Chris, Gollum joining with them after a few moments of being in the mines.

Both he and Gollum watched with amusement as Chris cursed, using the water to clean parts of himself off without actually going into the water.

He knew Chris was just trying to take care of himself, but really, he was partially annoyed that Chris didn’t think his cleaning of the wounds wasn’t enough. Then again, it was best to clean wounds often, so he dealt with it. Plus, Josh found amusement at Chris’ cries at how cold the water was.

Deeper in the mines – much deeper – there were considerably warmer pools of water, but he wasn’t sure that Chris was up for that journey. Not yet anyways. Maybe later, when Chris was all healed up and had become an accomplished hunter and member of the pack.

He sniffed Chris when he finished cleaning himself, and huffed. The mini bath had washed off more than just some blood and grime. Josh’s scent on him was faded now, but should still be prevalent enough that any others who didn’t recognize him would not give him any issues.

Not that it would be a problem anytime soon. Since Chris and Gollum were returning to the cave – where Josh’s scent could be easily reapplied with a proper cleaning session.

He knew Chris didn’t like it, but he had stopped trying to resist letting Josh clean the wounds. He was usually stiff when Josh started, but by the time he was finished, Chris would be pliant and almost dozing. Although, any sharp pain caused by the cleaning would jolt him back to being tense. Josh prided himself on only jolting Chris a few times per cleaning session now. Soon he was confident that he’d be able to care for his human without accidentally hurting him.

And then he just needed to wait for his human to get better.


	5. February 19, Chris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a crazy year with even crazier events on going, plus Ghost got caught up with School and work and wasn't able to read over the chapters. BUT... I'm back now, and she's read a head a little (and is quitting her job to focus more on school) sooo we should be good to go for a bit! 
> 
> I'm gonna post like 2-3 chapters this week to make up for the lost time.

Gollum had joined Josh among the admittedly few ranks of the sport of ‘Chris Watching’. It had over the past few days worn Chris down to the point of chatting with Gollum just as he did Josh. He wasn’t entirely sure how much the Wendigo understood. 

Wendigos were intelligent. There was no doubt of that in Chris’ mind. They had a hierarchy, and a language of their own. They set traps for humans – like lying in wait in shallow water for humans to pass back through, or using friendly voices calling for help to lure and separate.

But for all that intelligence, and for being former humans… he wasn’t entirely sure that they actually _understood_ humans anymore at all. Josh certainly did, and the way Gollum reacted to him made him begin to think that _maybe_ Gollum could understand as well.

~~If they could understand why didn’t they show mercy? Why didn’t they have compassion? Why were they ruthless killers and the stuff of nightmares? If they could understand, why were they _monsters?_~~

And Chris found himself _curious_ in a way that hurt if only because he _knew_ he’d find the answers one way or another. He was stuck on a one-way track, with no way off. And if he was honest, little desire to get off.

He would discover the secrets of the Wendigo. Secrets _no one_ , not even the old man, had known. Secrets that he would most assuredly take with him to the grave. 

Or to the bottom of a Wendigo’s stomach.

All that ~~useless in the real-world~~ knowledge, and he couldn’t do a damn thing with it except possibly extend his existence down in the deep, dark caves for just a little longer. Just until Josh either grew either too bored or hungry enough to end him.

Because for as much as Chris was talking to Gollum now-a-days, he was under no illusion that it wouldn’t be _Josh_ that eventually killed and ate Chris.

As a human, Josh had always been… not exactly needy, but definitely the jealous type. The type of jealous that saw that Chris made a new friend in fifth grade and drove them away in tears because Chris was _his_ friend, not theirs. The type of jealous that had Josh not talking to him for a week straight after he kissed a girl in seventh grade.

He had mellowed out by the time they reached high school, but by then Chris knew the rules. Josh collected the friends and shared them with Chris. And he suspected that to some degree the others knew the unspoken rules too. Chris was _Josh’s_ friend, and maybe… maybe that was why it had taken Chris so long to get with Ashley.

Not because he was a bumbling idiot before her, but because some small part of him was waiting for the shoe to drop with Josh. Was waiting for Josh to be, well, Josh; even as _Josh_ was the one pushing Chris to her.

It seemed becoming a Wendigo had not tempered that jealousy. No. If anything, it expanded it, pushing it over the boundary it had always toed. To say that Josh was jealous of Gollum would be entirely inaccurate. 

No. 

The correct statement would be that Josh was _possessive_ of Chris; and Chris’ newfound tentative friendship – ~~could he be friends with something that was a predator to his species?~~ – with Gollum was bothering Josh.

Oh, Josh wouldn’t say it outright – hadn’t said anything out right besides that claiming before the pack – but it was clear in the way Josh had taken to pressing his teeth against Chris’ throat and neck. The way he rubbed his body – not sensually – against Chris’ in a way that Chris suspected was a scent marking. Josh was cleaning his wounds with extra care and more frequency, his touches gentler. 

Chris didn’t know how to think or feel about any of this. That analytical part of his brain was chomping at the bit, coming up with theories that he might never get the answer to. 

Was it Josh trying to reassure him that he wasn’t going to eat him? Was it a threat? It didn’t feel like a threat. It just felt… intimate.

And well, Chris definitely wasn’t sure how to feel about that if it was something intimate. He hadn’t seen any of the other Wendigos doing anything like this. He only really allowed it because it wasn’t always easy to reassure Josh that he preferred him over Gollum. Especially since Chris sometimes saw Gollum more than Josh considering Gollum had become Chris’ traveling companion within the mines.

It seemed that he had been begrudgingly accepted into the pack since Josh’s public claiming. And while some of them were more accepting, there were others that Chris wouldn’t trust without his ~~babysitter~~ companion. So long as he had Gollum, he was free to wander.

Well, mostly free. He was pretty sure that his inability to find the way out of the mines wasn’t just because they were a labyrinth but because Gollum was somehow guiding him around and influencing his exploration. 

Not that he had to typically worry about the pack. He seldom ran into them, and when he did, it was typically because they were looking for him. Usually to give him small human things that they found outside and – rarely – inside the mines. Once or twice he was given clothes – which he would never wear if he could help it.

Shredded blood-stained clothes were definitely not high on Chris’ list of ‘acceptable’ clothes.

He had been given meat exactly one time, and well, one time was all that was needed for Josh to intervene and put his figurative foot down. Chris wasn’t sure the excuse Josh gave for the gift of food being rejected – a capital crime among Wendigo it seemed – but they seemed to be buying it for now.

The mines weren’t as bad as Chris thought they might have been. The scariest things in the mines were the pit falls – which Gollum wouldn’t let him near – and the Wendigo. And well, the Wendigo weren’t exactly a threat to Chris anymore.

“It’s like I’m part of the pack.” He had joked to Josh once, and the responding look and trill had been like ‘well, duh’. 

He hoped that by continuing to talk to Josh that he would eventually respond back. He knew he could, he had spoken at the public claiming. It was just a matter of getting Josh to speak – a feat which _seemed_ to be impossible, if only because Josh was an asshole and refused.

In any case, it was nice to finally have the freedom to explore the mines, or at least part of them. Not that Josh was ever particularly thrilled about it. Being up and about wasn’t exactly the best thing for Chris’ injuries, a fact that they loved to remind Chris of. It was thanks to that fact that he now knew exactly which shrieks and noises meant ‘Josh’ or at least meant ‘Chris is hurt.’ 

He assumed it meant ‘Josh’ since every time he heard it, it was usually followed by Josh appearing not long after to pick him up and carry him back to the cave. 

And that totally didn’t have Chris a blushing mess every time it happened. Nope. Not at all.

It wasn’t like Chris wanted to be carried/rescued by Josh like some damsel in distress. He just… forgot himself and pushed himself too far. He didn’t want to be confined to the cave he shared with Josh.

~~He didn’t want to be confined at all, and man if that was what the Wendigo had to go through… being confined to the mines, stuck on this mountain with no escape… he didn’t blame them for being a bit pent up.~~

Like, yes, Josh had gotten him books – the stack was getting dangerously similar to the one he had seen in the vision – but in the damp dank mines, they were basically useless. The only thing he could really do with them was make origami out of the paper, and well, the last time Chris made origami anything it was for some school project in middle school.

He was reluctant to believe that the visions he was having were legit, but then again, he was having his entire worldview questions ever since the prank. Soo… He just went with it. The visions of the future didn’t seem perfect. 

He had dreamed about being gutted by a Wendigo and while that _almost_ happened, it hadn’t. So maybe the dream/vision about making paper footballs out of the books wouldn’t happen either. Chris was loath to ruin the books more than they already were, even if one of them seemed to be on… Karma Sutra of all things.

And between the choices of sitting in the cave with useless books or exploring the mines… Chris tended the choose the exploration.

His back tinged in pain as he tried to shift a wooden beam that had fallen out of his way, and he backed off with a huff. He eyed the beam, trying to determine if it was worth trying to go under or over it. He could just imagine the pain either option would bring and made a mental note to come back when he was a bit more recovered.

Gollum trilled as Chris turned back towards the tunnels that led him to Josh’s cave. The Wendigo hopped up onto the ceiling and skittered above Chris before dropping down behind him. 

“No, I don’t need you to call Josh.” Chris answered Gollum, rolling his eyes. “I don’t always need him to return, you know.”

Gollum’s responding chirp was more than a little skeptical. 

Chris huffed. “Watch me. I’ll return, no problem.”

Gollum let out another skeptical chirp, and Chris hrumphed, now more motivated to prove that he could return on his own. Pain from his wounds or not.

The mines, it seemed, were not keen on cooperating with Chris. They were vast and deep and despite his exploration, Chris couldn’t claim to know them like the back of his hand – yet. Which left him Chris staring down two tunnels, mentally debating which to pick – when he was fairly positive that they were both incorrect. Despite that, he didn’t feel lost enough to ask Gollum for help. 

Or maybe that was just his pride.

After a brief game of ‘Enny miney moe’ Chris picked a tunnel and headed down it. A few moments later, he kicked against something that sounded wooden as it skid along the stone ground. Chris _knew_ that sound, and as if in response, his stomach twisted.

He didn’t have to search hard to find the totem, and he held it gingerly, like it was a bomb that was about to go off. Did he pick it up and see if he got another vision, or did he just ignore it? Could he just put it down and pretend it didn’t exist?

His dream about being impaled by a Wendigo hadn’t happened, but that was because he had the knowledge not to step back but to go to the side. Discounting the Hannah one because she was dead, the other dreams had been about a guy yelling for Sam in the mines, him making paper footballs, Josh listening to his mom make a call to Chris, and Sam and Ashley talking in a hotel room.

What if he needed whatever this totem would show him in the future? What if it was like the Wendigo gutting him, and the totem showed him how to avoid that fate?

“Might as well as rip the band aid off.” He whispered to himself as he turned it over.

Like before, his gaze instantly fell to the butterfly outline – yellow this time – and he fell forward into the hollow space. 

The darkness turned into a door, which slowly opened. A familiar face peeked through, almost shyly despite the owner of the face being anything but. She had cut her hair, but there was no doubt that the person he was looking at was Jessica. “Chris?” She called out quietly, her gaze sweeping across the room – a hospital room – before landing on him. 

“Jessica?” He said with a rough voice. “I thought I wasn’t… I thought visitors weren’t allowed.”

Jessica smiled at him. A small secretive smile like they were five years old and stealing out of the cookie jar. “They aren’t.” She chirped as she closed the door quickly and quietly behind her. “I snuck in, silly. You’re one of my friends, no way I’m going to just leave you here in this boring place. Least not without some form of entertainment.” She winked and then pulled something out from behind her, waving it in the air playfully. The screen of the phone seemed to flash in the dimmed hospital lights. 

The Chris in the vision lit up like Christmas had come early. “No way!” He laughed. “You got me a phone?” He made grabby hands towards the device. “ _And_ you came to burst my bubble of boredom. Damn girl, are you after my heart?”

Jessica batted her eyes. “Well, I do aim to please.” She teased as she skipped forward and delivered the device into Chris’ hands.

Gollum touched his arm, concern evident in the milky white orbs of the Wendigo’s eyes. 

“I’m fine.” Chris told him, using the wall of the mines to stand. “I’m fine.” He repeated, like that could ease the unsettling twist of his stomach. 

Why was he in the hospital? How? He couldn’t leave the mountain. **_Wouldn’t_ , **not without Josh. Where was Josh? Chris balled his fists, and fought the urge to scream.

What did the visions mean? What about the colors, surely they meant something? So far, he had seen red, white, yellow, and black. Were they just… random? Or did they mean something?

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed sharply.

If he had another dream, another one off those weird dreams where he talked with something _else_ , then he’d ask. Maybe he wouldn’t get an answer, maybe he would.

Gollum touched him again, and Chris lowered his hand. “Yeah, alright… take me back.” Chris sighed in defeat. His pride could take the hit. He could already feel an oncoming headache, although if it was from the vision or the thoughts the visions produced, he couldn’t say.

The rest of the journey back to the cave was silent and uneventful, and as soon as Chris was safely back inside, Gollum scampered off. Presumably to let Josh know that Chris had returned.

He wanted nothing more than to just fall back on the furs and take a nap, but previous experiences told him that the injuries on his back didn’t exactly approve of that idea. So instead he took a long sip of water from the miner hat and flopped forward onto his stomach.

He eyed the stack of books. The vision about him folding the pages into footballs had been _red_. But what did that mean? 

Was he even sure that the dreams/visions meant anything? Sure, that one had been pretty close to truth, but… could he really accept that he could see the future? Or a possible future? 

He hadn’t had any other of the weird butterfly dreams, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any dreams. Sometimes he had strange twisting dreams that were hazy and covered in a green miasma that felt like it was choking him. He always woke from those dreams with his stomach growling. 

He wasn’t sure which was better to have: the butterfly or green dreams. The butterfly dreams were always memorable but weren’t always pleasant. As if a reminder of that, the image of Hannah mid change popped up in his mind.

Yet the green dreams felt very… disturbing and uneasy. They felt important, but he couldn’t quite place why. 

He knew he was losing time too. It was hard to keep track of the days when it all just seemed to blur into one long never-ending night in the mines. 

Chris only knew he had fallen asleep when he blinked and opened his eyes to a starry sky. Ah, another butterfly dream then. He wondered what horrors he would be subjected to this time.

“I didn’t think you were subjected to any last time.” ‘Josh’ said. He sounded close, like he was sitting exactly where he had been sitting last time.

“You a mind reader now?” Chris asked, and then knowing he wasn’t likely to get a response continued with, “What do the colors mean?”

“Various things. Death, Guidance, Loss, Danger, _Fortune_.”

Oh wow, an actual answer. Chris hadn’t expected that, or what the answer _implied_.

“So, I really am seeing the future.” Chris mused. He wondered which color meant what. Some of them were kind of obvious now that he thought about it. Red was Danger, Yellow was Guidance. But what about Black or White? Probably Fortune for White and… well, was Black Loss or Death? ‘Josh’ had listed _five_ colors, but Chris could only recall seeing _four_ so far.

What was he missing?

‘Josh’ didn’t deign to respond, and after a few more moments of silence, Chris asked, “I’ve got to look at a butterfly, don’t I?”

“You’re not like most people, Christopher.” ‘Josh’ said, which really didn’t answer even the question. Which wasn’t fair because Chris thought that his question might actually be one that _could_ be answered. “You have _choices_.”

A shiver ran through Chris’ body when ‘Josh’ said that last word. There was some sort of _power_ in that word, and Chris wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why him? Why was he the one experiencing this. Why did _he_ have choices?

He thought to the green dreams and the haunting unease that permeated through them like a miasma of dread. Then he thought of the butterfly dreams and how relatively harmless they could be. “I get the feeling white butterflies aren’t common.”

If he was right about White being Fortune, but why wouldn’t it be? When he saw it, it had been Josh, alive and not a Wendigo. Probably impossible and improbable. Which of course led to questions about the credibility of these dreams/visions.

Chris’ inner skeptic was having a hayday with this all. 

‘Josh’ laughed and like before the sound of it sent Chris’ stomach into knots. 

“I’ll take that as confirmation.” Chris said. “So, was that your ‘gift’? A good dream?” A white butterfly of Fortune?

“My gift, like all gifts, is what you make of it.” ‘Josh’ replied in typical supernatural cryptic fashion. 

Chris thought to what ‘Josh’ said about Chris having a ‘choice’. Was that his ‘gift’, his ability to choose? If so, then he could choose what? He blinked and green flashed beneath his eyelids, the haze heavy, thick, and almost suffocating. He felt like something was watching him from within the green fog, something _dangerous_. 

He opened his eyes immediately and stared back up at the stars. 

“What are you?” Chris asked. There was no response, and Chris turned his head to look at ‘Josh’ for the first time, but he wasn’t there. Chris was alone except for a brown butterfly.

Chris had the time to think, ‘oh, that’s the missing color’ before he the brown of the butterfly bled into the dark brown of some dirt in the mines. 

Sam’s body was laid out on it, looking as if she had fallen from a great height. Her neck was at an unnatural angle, her eyes blank and glassy. Blood spilled from under her, leaking out from a gaping hole in her chest, as if someone had ripped her heart out.

In one of her hands, there was a paper football.

His vision blurred as he stared at Sam’s body until the yellowed paper became a butterfly. It beat its wings and took flight, soaring up the shaft and taking Chris with it.

He was in the cave that he shared with Josh, but neither of them were there. Instead Sam was resting on the reject pile of furs. Like before, there was a paper football in her hand, but unlike before, there appeared to be something on it. 

After a few seconds her eyes opened, and she sat up, looking around the cave before scrambling for her bag.

She dug around in it for a few seconds before letting out a sound of triumph and lighting up a flare. The fire from the flare arched up, forming blazing wings of a red butterfly. It spread around him, like a wildfire before turning to liquid red that pooled under chunks of meat. 

Chris picked up the meat and pushed it into his mouth. He didn’t even chew before swallowing. Green miasma rose up from the meat flooded the dream as Chris tore off another piece.

 _“The Hunger Consumes_.” The fog – or maybe the being in the fog – whispered into his ear, into his mind. His nails lengthened into claws, which he used to tear off another piece of meat. It slid down his throat, but the gnawing hunger inside didn’t abate. If anything, it grew; urging him to eat more and more.

Chris woke with a start, his stomach twisting and churning as bile burned the back of his throat. His entire body was shaking. Josh’s claws gently touched Chris’ face, and he flinched if only because the movement and action hadn’t been expected. Not so soon after… after whatever just happened. 

One thing was for certain: he was tired. Mentally, emotionally, physically… he was tired. Yet despite the exhaustion, his mind was a whirlwind mess as he tried to process the dreams/visions he had just had.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to process them.

Sam dead, Sam alive, whatever the fuck that last one had been. _The Hunger Consumes_. What the hell was that about? What did it mean? 

The voice had been ancient and terrifying – more so perhaps than anything else Chris had encountered thus far on the mountain. He wasn’t sure what had alerted Josh to his need for comfort, but before he knew it, Chris was wrapped up in his arms as he purred. Chris buried his face into the juncture of Josh’s neck and shoulder like Josh had done to him so often.

Josh stilled, his purring stuttering to a halt for all of a second before suddenly resuming much stronger and louder than before. Chris closed his eyes and tried to pretend that nothing was wrong.


	6. February 23-24, Josh

Ever since the day that Chris had stumbled into the cave only to collapse onto the nest, Chris had seemed content to stay in the cave. And while Josh considered this a generally good thing, it was worrying if only because it was so out of character.

Chris didn’t like to stay in the cave. It was boring, especially since Chris couldn’t hunt or do anything really interesting beyond mess with the papers Josh had gotten him or clean.

And lately, he had seemed like he was just… wilting.

It was disheartening to watch, but there was little Josh could do about it except to try to continuously bring him new things for entertainment.

He had taken to traveling to the various human buildings in hopes of finding something new for Chris. So far, his search had yielded nothing of considerable success. Only paper, paper, more paper and a broken camera that Chris had fiddled with for all of a day.

He was on his way to search another wing of the building when one of the pack called for him, their tone urgent and alarmed. He debated ignoring them, but they didn’t typically call for him in such a manner.

It would be poor of him to ignore them, as the Alphas of the past apparently had.

He smelt the reason for the call long before he reached the pack member. 

The other was crouched by one of the various human trails, sniffing around. Josh sniffed as well, noting that the strength of the scent was too strong to be older than a day. The source was long gone, presumably off the mountain.

Humans who knew enough to know to stay away during the nights could be dangerous if the pack wasn’t careful. Then again, it could just be a group of humans temporarily trespassing.

He ordered them to return on the next moonrise to check if the scents were renewed. If they were, then the humans were returning. And _that_ would warrant more attention. If they were returning, there would have to be a reason. If they were returning then… well, elk was fine and all, but it never really soothed the hunger quite like human.

The knowledge to stay away from the mountain during the night would make hunting them difficult unless he could figure out a way to lure them into the mines. 

But there was no point in planning – yet – when he wasn’t certain they’d return. He would focus on Chris for now. Even if a small part of his mind wouldn’t let the idea of fresh human go. 

Chris only ate fresh meat, and the meat the humans provided was far superior than any rabbit or elk. It would heal Chris much faster, give him claws and teeth, and really make him one of the pack – more than he already was. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scents, and hoped that the humans would be stupid enough to return. If not for the pack’s sake, then for Chris’.

And speak of Chris, he returned to his original task; heading back into the former human dwelling to find cloth and paper and whatever he thought Chris might be interested in. 

_A phone_. The thought struck him as with enough force to make him pause in the middle of the hallway.

_“When are you gonna install some cell towers up here?”_ Chris’ voice floated through his head. _“I’m getting withdrawals already.”_

“You got a spare million lying around and I’ll fix you right up.” Josh repeated the words he had said to Chris before, the words tasted strange on his tongue, like an old familiar spice he hadn’t had in ages. It tasted like when he had claimed Chris as his in a way that even Chris would understand.

He licked his lips and ran his tongue over his teeth. The words didn’t sound _right_ , didn’t sound like he remembered. The same words, but there was something different about them. Different about him. But, of course, there was something different about him. He was different – better – now. 

He tilted his head to the side as he considered the conversation and the thought that had led to it. Where was Chris’ phone? He was never without it, even up here. Should he try to look for it? Chris would surely appreciate it.

No.

The mountain was too big and the phone too small. He had better things to waste his time with than searching for that. Trying to find the phone would be worse than trying to find all the totems left around the mountain. A pointless endeavor, especially as the memory pointed out that Chris wouldn’t be able to do anything with the phone anyways.

He shook his head and continued on his way, leaving the dwelling after scaring away the local wolf pack with a snarl and screech – he was the Alpha of this Mountain; all would respect him.

He dropped off the papers on Chris’ ever-growing stack, and the cloth off in the pile of ‘needs to be washed’. It had grown ever since Chris had ceased leaving the cave. At this rate, Josh would have to take time out of his duties to tend to it. 

He eyed the water bowl, and noted that it was empty. He might as well as take care of that. Once finished, he dropped it off in its customary spot near Chris, and then turned his attention to his human.

Chris was asleep, a sheen of liquid dotting his forehead. His eyes were darting about under their lids, and his breathing sounded uneven. A dream of some sort, perhaps? It didn’t matter, he supposed. Chris was resting, dream or not, and rest would help him heal.

The moonset was coming upon them, so Josh fluffed up the furs in the nest and gingerly curled up against Chris, careful and cautious of the wound on his back. The last thing he wanted was to offset Chris’ healing further. He yawned as he nuzzled into the functional side of his human, and fell asleep as the first rays of dawn filtered through the cavern.

The excited and disappointed shrieks of his pack woke him, and he cracked open an eye to see from the light in the cave that the moonrise had _just_ started. He grumbled and pressed himself closer to his human, not interested in seeing what had his pack all excited.

For the first time in a while, Josh felt _warm_ , and he wanted nothing more than to just yawn, press his teeth against Chris, and then return to sleep.

There was another screech from the various pack members, this time specifically directed at him. He groaned, and with heavy sleep-laden movements, dragged himself away from the heat of the nest and stretched.

Chris stirred at the various shrieks, but didn’t wake. It was for the best, he told himself as he made sure to take extra care in rearranging the furs for Chris’ optimal warmth and coverage. Once he finished, he leaned down to press his teeth against his neck in a sign of good faith and affection.

Duties to Chris temporarily sated, he turned his attention back to his still screeching pack, and yawned once more before crawling out of the cave to go find what was bothering them.

It was incredibly early, and the setting sun cast elongated shadows into the woods. It was set enough to not bother Josh’s eyes terribly, but it was still irritating. What was his pack doing up so early, and why had they decided to bother him? 

What was so important that they had to screech and scream to wake him up from a perfectly good and warm rest?

“What?” He snapped as he approached the pack, the question coming out in a mangled twisted combination of Wendigo and English. The pack members present physically flinched while Josh mentally winced. Ugh, he didn’t have the time or the patience for his humanity this morning. The sooner he took care of this, the sooner he could return to his nest.

The pack twittered, the ones furthest from him gossiping about him being in a _mood_ , and who wouldn’t be in a mood this early in the night?!

He growled in their general direction and the twittering instantly feel silent.

The scent of the humans was stronger than it had been yesternight, and apparently _that_ was what had his pack in such a state. He rolled his eyes, mildly miffed that they had dragged him out of his comfortable nest this early in the night for _this_.

He could understand if they had a human, but they _didn’t._ There was nothing to show for this beyond the proof that the humans were returning. Which, okay, yeah, that was exciting, but not _this_ exciting.

They still didn’t know a lot about this. Why were the humans returning? Why did they leave at night? Was it because they knew of his pack’s existence? He needed to know if he had any hope to lure them into the mines. 

He sent the pack out to locate the places the humans had visited. Perhaps that would shed insight in the reason for their presence. And any insight into that would lead to an insight into how to trap them.

He inhaled deeply as the pack left on their tasks, taking in the various scents. Most of them were unknown to Josh, but there was a trace of one that that wasn’t as unknown. It wasn’t Chris – couldn’t be Chris – but it was… not familiar exactly, but _known_.

He inhaled again, trying to tap into the humanity he had just shoved away to find the source. Where had he smelled this scent before. The image that kept coming to mind was fuzzy. Hazel eyes, blonde hair… the color _Red_. 

_Red_.

Red was a _color_. Dangerous, a warning, caution. Was this a sign from the Mountain? A butterfly totem in the form of a hazy human memory? It had been so long since the Mountain had spoken to him, years since he had found a totem to guide his way, to warn him. 

Then again, he had stopped listening. Or maybe he had stopped listening because there was nothing to listen to. 

Green memories could be hazier than the human ones if he delved down deep enough. It hurt his head, and made his chest ache like he was being tugged in two different directions and being torn apart. He needed to focus on something. Something that was not a memory; that was present and unhazy.

Like a hunt. A trap. He needed to figure out a way to trap the humans, to see if they were as dangerous as he suddenly felt they could be. He needed them in the mines, in his territory.

Ripped clothes was always an option, but it was risky. Humans could be just as suspicious as concerned. The clothes would only stir up fear that whatever tore up the clothes was still lurking around. Empathy and sympathy were tools he could use to lure them in, but first, he needed to know what they were interested in. 

Human compassion was only skin deep. 

He didn’t think he could afford mistakes with these humans. The color _Red_ was too important of a color for it to not mean something that it came to mind. 

It was a known smell – something he _knew_. And if it meant Danger, then he needed to know who/what it was. Perhaps spending time with Chris would trigger more memories and knowledge. Maybe Chris would be able to give him some idea on how to lure them into the mines.

He debated hunting first, but it was still early. He could hunt later. This was more important. He chirped out Chris’ name as he returned to the nest. 

Chris was awake; his gaze roaming about the cave as if he could spot him. Human eyesight was never meant for the dark, not like his second sight. 

He was pleased that Chris was still being good; that he was still behaving. He wasn’t ready to leave the nest yet again. He needed to recover, to get better. Fresh meat would help with that. 

Chris had found the papers that Josh had left behind and after a moment of fruitless searching, returned his attention back down to them. 

“You find me the weirdest stuff.” Chris commented as he did _something_ to the paper. Josh crawled a little closer and tilted his head, trying to figure out what he was doing. The movements were familiar. “Can you quit being a weirdo and come here and cut this?” Chris asked.

Well, how could he deny such a request. Especially when it meant he could better see what Chris was doing. 

The paper had been folded a specific way, and apparently Josh needed to cut the excess off. 

“Thanks.” Chris took the now triangular paper and unfolded it into a square before refolding it a couple more times. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.” He unfolded it again, and then used a rolled-up piece of paper dipped in the remains of yesterday’s meal to scribble on it. 

“This was so much easier when I could use my other arm.” He held it up to Josh, and he blinked down at the folded paper.

_“Pick a color, Josh.”_ Beth whispered from the darkness. It was the first time she had spoken to him in forever. He had thought she had left him. Or maybe this was another memory? 

_“R-E-D.”_ Chris’ paper object didn’t move, but he could imagine it opening and closing as she spelled out the letters. Red. Why Red? This couldn’t be a coincidence. It couldn’t be. The color, the memories, his sister. It had to mean something.

_“Pick a number.”_ Josh mutely shook his head. _“Don’t you want your fortune, Josh?”_ Beth asked with a laugh. 

“Josh?” Chris called out, and Josh could see the furrow between his eyebrows and the slight downturn of his mouth that meant he was worried. Had Josh worried him?

“Okay, no fortune tellers, got it. Understood.” Chris crumpled the paper up, balling it up and then tossing it away from the nest. Fortune teller. Yes, that was what that had been called. Hannah and Beth had made them a lot when they were younger. 

“How about this instead?” Chris asked as he picked up another paper and started folding it. A few moments later and he held up a… a plane. A paper plane. He tossed it in Josh’s direction and then let out a pitiful dismayed sound when it divebombed the ground. 

“Okay, that was a failure.” Chris muttered. He grabbed another piece of paper and started to work on another. Hesitantly, Josh reached out and took a piece of paper. Chris didn’t seem to notice or care.

He rubbed the paper between his fingers. His hands moved on autopilot, carefully folding the thin paper until it was a long rectangle. He was barely aware of Chris’ movements slowing to a stop as he watched. 

Fold again, and again, and again until it was a small flat triangle. He used to flick these at Chris during class. Usually with a note or a message. Sometimes without just to annoy him. “Fuck.” Chris breathed, muttering the curse under his breath. “Why’dya make a paper football?” He asked. 

He tried – and failed – to sound casual about it. Josh narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze between the paper football and Chris. “How about we play a game?” Chris asked with too much cheer in his voice.

Was he trying to distract Josh? From what? Why?

He took the paper football away from Josh and managed to hold it against the floor with his bad arm so he could flick it with his good one. It smacked Josh square in the face.

Chris thought it was hilarious and burst out laughing. Josh didn’t find it nearly as funny. It was insulting. Stupid paper, stupid humans. He ripped up the football. “Hey!” Chris’ protests sounded… half-hearted. “You’re such a sore loser. It was just a game.”

Just a game. 

That was it! Ripped clothes would be too suspicious. But paper footballs – a toy – wouldn’t be nearly as suspicious. Regardless for the purpose of their visit, the people would be curious about a trail of paper footballs. Curious enough to maybe even investigate.

Curiosity could kill more than just the cat. 

But… it had taken him a while just to make one. His claws weren’t made for folding delicate paper. But Chris’ nubby fingers and dull claws were perfect for this. He gathered up the torn pieces and held them out to Chris, letting out a pitiful chirp of ‘sorry’.

Chris’ eyes narrowed as his gaze switched from the papers to Josh a few times. “What do you mean, ‘sorry’?” There was a strange tone to Chris’ voice that Josh wasn’t entirely sure that he liked. “What do you want?”

Josh dropped the pieces before Chris and then grabbed another piece of paper. He held it out to Chris expectantly. ‘Another’, he chirped when Chris did nothing. 

Chris’ eyes further narrowed. “You… want _me_ to make another?” He asked, slowly as if the idea was too stupid to even bother voicing. Josh nodded his head.

“Nu-uh. You tore up the last one.” Chris shook his head and pushed Josh’s hand away.

Josh snorted. Well, fine. If Chris was going to be like that, then Josh would make them all on his own. He didn’t _need_ Chris’ help, although it would have been appreciated. This was, after all, for a trap so they could hunt some proper meat that would help Chris.

He sat down and started the tedious process of folding the papers.

“You can’t be serious.” Of course Josh was serious. This was important! Why couldn’t Chris just understand? “Oh fuck, you’re serious.” 

Chris let out a groan. “This is fucked up.” He muttered before grabbing a piece of paper and starting to fold. Josh immediately perked up. Was Chris helping? Josh let out an inquisitive trill and Chris sighed. “Yeah, I’m… helping.”

It sounded like the admission was strangled out of him more than said, but Josh would take the win regardless. Chris was helping; was being a productive member of the pack. He was… proud. Well, proud and excited.

“I take it you want a bunch of these, right?” Chris asked. Josh nodded enthusiastically. “Great.” Chris dragged the word out. He didn’t seem as enthused about this as Josh did, but that was alright. Once he tasted proper meat and knew the thrill of the hunt, of being with the pack, Chris’ attitude would change.

He would understand, finally. He would know how the _hunger consumes_. He would be one of them.

He was tempted to go ahead and set up the trap before heading to bed, but it was too soon. He needed to let the others know, needed everyone to be ready. Especially if there was danger with this group of humans.

And there was. The thought of _Red_ kept coming to mind whenever he thought of them and there was too much for it all to just be a coincidence. 

He would wait just a little longer. Just enough to set up the trap and inform the others. He couldn’t afford to wait too long as he didn’t want his prey to escape, but to rush into things was asking for trouble. 

He yawned as the moon started to set, and Chris put down the football he had just completed. “Tired?” He asked, and when Josh let out a quiet affirmative, Chris’ lips upturned at the corners. “Gonna come keep me warm?”

Well, that was an invitation if Josh ever heard one. Normally he waited until Chris was already asleep to snuggle, but if Chris was inviting him, well, there was no sense in pointless waiting. 

“Good morning, Josh.” Chris muttered before fluffing his furs and using them as pillows.

Of course, Josh was disturbed from his sleep once again. This time, however, it wasn’t his pack that woke him. 

Based on the small thin shafts of light that filtered down into his nest, the sun was still high in the sky. It was too early to be up, so why was he? He grumbled and pressed his face into Chris, and of course that was when he discovered what exactly had woken him.

Chris was making distressed noises, his eyes moving quickly under his lids. His breathing was uneven in a way that immediately set Josh on edge. Something wasn’t right. Chris was distressed. 

Josh let out a low whine before purring softly, taking care to press himself closer to Chris so that he might better help him.

Chris shifted at the movements. Josh’s purring stuttered to a stop as the smell of blood flooded the nest. The scent of distress mixed poorly with the scent of the blood, and turned Josh’s stomach. 

His human was in pain and distressed. What could he do? 

Chris’ hand wrapped around him was a sign that Chris was awake, and he let out another shuddered purr as Chris started to cry into Josh’s shoulder. 

Cleaning the wound would help, but first he needed Chris to calm down and let him go. By the time he succeeded in calming Chris down, the sun had already begun to set. The others were starting to wake, and Chris flinched with each shriek.

He didn’t know what caused this panic in Chris. He didn’t know what caused the distress. He didn’t know, and the not knowing was killing him. How could he protect Chris if he didn’t know? 

How could he be expected to take care of Chris if he didn’t know? 

All he could do was just be there for Chris, to comfort him and calm the unspoken and unknown fears. Some part of him was surprised this hadn’t happened earlier. Humans were such fragile creatures. 

Now that Chris was calmer, he could clean the wound. He coaxed Chris into laying on his stomach, and then crawled on top of him to clean the wound. Chris was passed out when he finished, although Josh wasn’t sure if it was because he was feeling better or from the pain.

He hoped for the former, but had a sinking feeling it was the latter instead.

He brushed a claw over Chris’ face. Everything would be better once he got Chris some proper meat. And in order to obtain that meat, he needed to leave Chris. He sighed, and with difficulty pulled himself away to gather up the footballs that Chris had made. 

With any luck, he’d have proper meat for Chris within a few days. 

**Author's Note:**

> If there's any typos or mistakes, please let me know! 
> 
> Come Talk to me on my [Tumblr](https://star-gazing-knight.tumblr.com/)!


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